Dark Bounty
by JP Fanfic
Summary: The Second Galactic Civil War is over, the FIRST ORDER has been defeated by the RESISTANCE and a new Senate has been elected to govern the galaxy. Boba Fett, having profited from the war returns home, but his exploits have not gone unnoticed in the galaxy. . .
1. DARK BOUNTY: Opening Crawl

**This is a spin-off of my other fanfiction: Episode VIII Rise of the Dark Jedi & Episode IX The Legacy of the Sith. For more information on how the First Order was defeated and how Boba Fett profited from the war, please read that novel.**

 **It is not absolutely necessary to read Episode VIII and IX, but it will help with understanding the setting and characters. An argument has been made that Boba Fett would be too old for this story line. This is a valid criticism and one I was aware of at the beginning of writing. So as a defense, Boba would be 66 years old during Rise of the Dark Jedi (my other fan fic), and 67 years old during this story. He is not young, but as you will see in both those stories, his prowess is not based on his physical attributes, rather his cunning. In these stories he is aware of his age, and so are other familiar and aged Star Wars characters that are present in the stories. And how old was Han Solo in TFA?**

 **Thanks again to SaphireAlena for her beta-editing. Be sure to check out her fanfictions: I am a Slave and her New Republic trilogy.**

 **Below is the opening crawl to Dark Bounty.**

* * *

A long time ago in a galaxy far,

far away . . . .

Star

Wars

DARK BOUNTY

The Second Galactic Civil War is over, the FIRST ORDER has been defeated by the RESISTANCE and a new Senate has been elected to govern the galaxy. Though it is a time of military peace in the Galaxy, it is also a time of great agitation as the new government struggles to shape itself.

Crimelords in every system are eager to take advantage of the upset and race to make a profit in the short time before order is restored. One bounty hunter, now wealthy from his exploits during The War returns to his home. But his spoils of war have not gone unnoticed in the Galaxy . . .


	2. DARK BOUNTY: The Great Pit of Carkoon

_The pitch black darkness engulfed Boba Fett; his arms were outstretched and grasped his vibroblades that were anchored in a writhing Sarlacc tentacle. The inside of a Sarlacc was as black as the dark side of the Gorse moon. With no light, it was impossible to orient himself, yet Boba held on with a tenacious effort. He attempted to remove his right blade from the tentacle and stab it further up, trying to climb toward the mouth, but it was no use. He had been swallowed, and had it not been for his quick thinking to grab a tentacle of the Sarlacc, he would already be slowly dissolving in the digestive tract of the creature._

 _The peristaltic movement of the creature's esophagus continued to push down on him making it impossible to stab the blade into the tentacle again. The blade twisted in his hand as another wave of contractions pressed him, wrenching the blade from his hands and causing it to pass into the deep belly of the creature; lost. Boba Fett cursed to himself and then re-gripped with both hands the one vibroblade that was still anchored. If his hold slipped, he would be lost just like his other blade. The contraction squeezed him like a strong band as it moved rhythmically down his core, then legs, then feet. That was the only orientation he could manage; the contractions headed down._

 _Added to this, Boba knew something else was wrong; he had been drugged. Before his Z-6 jetpack had malfunctioned causing him to fly into this pit, he could feel the disquieting sensation coming on. When it was evident that Jabba's prisoner, Luke Skywalker, was making his attempt to escape, Boba had risen to the challenge, seeing a possible reward for subduing the prisoner. As soon as he had heard the commotion he had rushed up from the lower deck of the sand barge. He had been sharing a drink with another attractive female bounty hunter, but that did not matter to him when the chance for a profit arose. However, as soon as he had flown to the skiff to attack Luke, his vision became blurry and raising his EE-3 carbine rifle was a sluggish endeavor. Seeing Luke slice the front of the rifle off seemed to be in slow-motion to Boba. He threw the rifle away, tried to shake off the vertigo, and then fired his fibrocord from this wrist gauntlet. Having to deal with double vision now and slower reflexes, Boba needed to simply subdue Luke until Jabba's henchmen could handle him. The fibrocord entangled the fighting Jedi, pinning his arms at his sides. Boba again shook his head, trying to free himself from the dizziness, but before he could, Luke had deflected a blast causing the fibrocord to whip back at Boba. The loss of tension on the fibrocord was too much for the tottering Boba, and he fell to the ground at the sudden change._

 _He cursed to himself as he realized what was happening. He did not spend a moment trying to figure out who had drugged him. There was a long list, and that analysis could wait for later. However, now Boba needed to function as best he could, his world spinning. He stood, ignoring the blind Han Solo and the captured Chewbacca that were on the skiff with him._

 _Luke had lept to the opposite skiff with effortless celerity and was making quick work of Jabba's henchmen. Boba raised his heavy arm, the armor becoming more cumbersome by the second. His aim wavered as he tried to focus on the two images of Luke. He fired his dart from his wrist; the errant red streak flashing beyond the fighters and into the distance, impacting the sand somewhere on the horizon._

 _The next moment Boba cursed under his breath again as the blind Han Solo had accidentally rapped his jetpack, causing the pack to malfunction and sending the disoriented Boba Fett into the sail barge, and, finally, into the Pit of Carkoon, the Sarlacc's open beak waiting to swallow him. Boba could not believe his luck; being drugged, an escaping prisoner, an incidental blind man, and a malfunctioning Z-6 jetpack, were enough to annoy, but for Boba, it enraged him. It was that anger that centered him and kept his wits. He had thought about every danger that could happen to him at the pit, and the Sarlacc was a calculated threat, one that he had anticipated. What he had not anticipated was the drug. The world spun as he rolled down the hot sand. He remembered his plan to grab a tentacle and try to climb out of its mouth; but the world was reeling, both in his head and physically as he tumbled to the hungry creature._

 _The beak opened to swallow him, but no tentacle had grabbed him; his only chance of climbing out was not there. He stretched out his arms and legs to pin himself in the open beak and stop his descent. For a moment his body was stuck in the throat, but the pressure of the closing beak was intense and Boba could not hold it for long. Boba knew he did not need to hold it forever, just long enough for a tentacle to dislodge him, hopefully before another body was swallowed._

 _Lucky for him, though Boba did not believe it to be luck, a thick tendril reached down to twist around his torso to lift him and redirect him feet down. Boba at first grabbed the snake-like appendage, and soon realized that he could not grip it tightly enough with only his hands. He slipped down it as the tentacle released him. Quickly, he removed one vibroblade from his gauntlet and stabbed the tentacle, twisting the blade to secure it. Then he repeated the action with a second blade, which he later lost._

 _So, here he was, grasping desperately to one blade in the warm blackness of a Sarlacc's esophagus, fighting the tight muscular contractions, all the while his world spinning. Boba worried further as he knew the drug was still increasing in intensity. Soon he would be unconscious, either by the drug or loss of air. Boba tried to think quickly, but nothing he could do was quick anymore. He let go with his right hand and fumbled his belt to pick off one of his grenades, knowing it to be one of his two anti-armor grenades. His fingers clumsily tried to activate it, but at that moment a body came down on top of him causing the vibroblade to twist and slip. Boba dropped the unactivated grenade and doubled his grip on the blade, twisting it again to reset it. The body pressed down on him, and Boba had to use every bit of effort left in him to redirect the wiggling body to slide down beside him. The swallowed man tried to grapple Boba, but Boba lifted his knee and hooked his foot into the man's belt, kicking the man down the throat toward death. A tight peristaltic band followed and almost overwhelmed the spent Boba; he still held on. Boba knew only a few more of those contractions would finish him._

 _He again grabbed for an anti-armor grenade, and this time was able to arm it and drop it. Another peristaltic wave passed over him, and he re-gripped the blade. The grenade was carried deep into the Sarlacc's bowels. Boba felt the distant percussion of the explosion, and the muscular contractions of the esophagus quivered, but then resumed. It had not worked. The creature was still alive._

 _There was only one chance left if his grenades were useless. He reached behind laboriously and released the concussion missile from his pack. Again with one hand he tried to arm it, accomplished the feat, and released it as another wave of contractions pushed down on him. However, without an impact the missile would not detonate, so lastly he grabbed a sonic grenade from his belt, armed it, and dropped it, hoping that this attempt would be successful. His right hand then returned to the blade to wait for the pending explosion._

 _Another henchman made his way down the gullet. Unfortunately for Boba, his strength gave way under the pressure of the descending body. He disastrously lost his grip on the blade and slid down the tentacle, grabbing wildly to no avail as the peristalsis pushed him toward the stomach. The percussion grenade and missile were waiting for him._

 _Then the explosion shook the Sarlacc, its esophagus fluttering between flaccid and tense. Ultimately, the esophagus lost tone and Boba was left floating in a large inelastic black void as the creature's muscles all relaxed. He would have breathed a sigh of relief but for the fact that he only had the air contained in his helmet and the fact that with his vertigo, he could not tell which way was out. He began to climb with his spiked-toed boots and fortunately found the dead tentacle for his hands to grip. Boba could feel the unconsciousness coming on him, and his leaden limbs worked sluggishly to climb as if he was in a dream; his mind wanting to move quickly, but his body moving as if through water._

 _The dead beak of the Sarlacc lay off to the side of the pit, its body destroyed deep under d. Jabba's sail barge lay in flames at the top of the pit, dead bodies and ship fragments scattered across the terrain. Luke Skywalker and the others had escaped while Boba strove within the inner space of the Sarlacc. Many laid dead or injured across the burning sand battlefield._

 _The Sarlacc's beak was disturbed and opened to reveal a gauntleted hand grasping the gritty and shifting surface, then another hand, then a helmet with a bent antenna, and finally the man. He pulled himself out just enough to get the weight of the beak off of his chest, his heavy legs still in the dead beak. He painfully turned over onto his side and removed his dented helmet. Immediately, he vomited with convulsing effort into the hot sand and wiped his mouth, then pivoting back over onto his back, he laid down and panted heavily as his vision failed._

" _Well, that is something," a sharp woman's voice spoke._

 _Boba squinted his eyes trying to see. He could not move his arms to get up. However, he could barely make out a woman with black hair and olive skin, her eyes a striking green. She was aiming a blaster at his head. He had recognized the woman bounty hunter he had shared a drink within the sail barge. He grunted some unintelligible words in a slurred speech, but managed to speak her name, "Terrah."_

" _I see the Thanatizine that I slipped into your spice liquor is working well." She kicked his shoulder to check his reflexes. "And even with that you escaped the Sarlacc. Very nice," she said. "But you won't beat me out for that Keeper bounty."_

 _Boba gritted his teeth and tried to raise his arm to shoot his dart launcher, but could not._

 _Terrah laughed at him and stepped on his arm, then bent over to pick up his helmet. "You know," she commented with a sudden realization. "This armor is worth a pretty penny."_

 _She thought a little more, then she grabbed his arms and dragged him out of the Sarlacc maw, his body almost completely limp now. Terrah started to remove Boba's armor._

" _This will slow you down a little, too," she stated. "If you survive the desert, that is."_

 _In a short time, his armor, boots, and gauntlets were removed, leaving him lying in the hot sand with only his linens on._

 _Once done, Terrah admired her handiwork and gazed on the debilitated Boba Fett, lying helpless in the hot and fuming sand. "It's been a pleasure." She turned and started to work her way up the shifting sand of the pit._

 _Boba was not able to think much anymore except for two emotions—the first and most dominate, he hated Terrah; the second was a very slight emotion—he admired her. He could not care less that she was beautiful._


	3. DARK BOUNTY: Geonosis

The sublight alarm woke Boba Fett from his sleep. Boba shook off the dream of the Sarlacc pit, one of the many dreams that haunted him these last thirty years. He rubbed the back of his head and counted his blessings that at least that dream was one that he liked; that is compared to the others. Sleep was hardly restful for him anymore.

His Kom'rk class fighter, the Blade-4, exited hyperspace into orbit around the orange-hued and ringed planet of Geonosis. The light from its sun, Ea, shown into through the cockpit window, causing Boba to squint his eyes as they adjusted from waking up.

Boba straightened himself in his seat and looked with ambivalence on the planet where his father, Jango Fett had been killed about sixty years before. Jango Fett had not been a traditional father to Boba. Jango had been a clone template for the Kaminoans during the Clone Wars, and as part of his payment for offering his genetic data to the cloners, he had requested an unaltered clone for himself; that was Boba Fett.

Boba picked up his father's Mandalorian helmet, still displaying a dent from when his father wore it. Boba could have fixed that scar, but to him that was pointless. He rubbed his finger over the indentation, a physical reminder of another nightmare he was plagued with, the death of his father and a revenge he could never attain. The man and the helmet were one, and his own scars he could not hammer away. This helmet he had lost, and then by a series of fortunate events he had recovered a year prior. He slid it on, checked the ship's system, and was pleased to see no problems from the long hyperspace journey.

He opened a HoloNet transmission and sent an encrypted call to the surface.

"PZ-85," a monotone droid voice answered over the HoloNet.

"PZ, it's me. I'm coming in," Boba replied.

"Yes, Master Boba," PZ-85 replied. "We are ready for your arrival."

"Good," Boba stated and switched off the HoloNet.

The Blade-4's sharp wing stabilizers spiraled around the cockpit as the ship dove into the atmosphere of planet Boba Fett now called home.

...

The _Blade-4_ descended through the arid sky toward the tawny landscape of the desert planet. Geonosis was largely devoid of life, the Empire having sterilized the planet during the First Galactic Civil War. Boba lowered the ship into a deep valley between two titanic mountain ranges and followed the path for a few kilometers. As the valley curved, a flat dirt landing pad appeared. He slowed to a hover and descend onto a landing pad next to an HH-87 Starhopper, a small one-man starfighter he had confiscated from a Hutt clan years ago. Beyond the pad was a medium-sized shelter set flush against the steep valley wall and multiple moisture vaporators scattered around on any flat surface.

The ship's ramp lowered; and Boba, dressed in his full armor exited. He kicked up orange dust as his armored boots tread across the flat landing pad. Beyond the pad, large rock spurs jutted out of the side of the steep valley wall, and a path twisted its way up to the shelter. The valley was eerily silent except for the sudden gusts of wind that blew up intermittent clouds of dust around him. Boba looked to his left and right and lowered his hand to his side-arm disruptor pistol, his fingers stretching in pregnant anticipation.

Another gust of wind hid his view of the shelter in a nebulous cloud of sand. The slight and quiet sound of a charging blaster could be heard in front of him. Without a thought, Boba dove to the side as a red streak of a blaster shot streaked through the hazy atmosphere. He rolled behind a rock spur, his pistol grasped firmly in his right hand and his finger on the trigger. The air cleared as the wind abated. He rose to look over the edge of the boulder to see, but there was no one, the assailant having hidden behind one of the many rock projections after the dust cloud had passed.

Boba made his way cautiously from one rock to another, but no one fired. Another gust of wind came with its expected, dusty blanket. Again from within the cover, the sound of a blaster charging whined and a red blast lit the thick cloud. Boba ducked again, the blast missing its mark. However, this time, Boba rose and fired a series of quick shots into the cloud and ran forward, twisting up the path as his right finger rolled out rapid pistol blasts. The cloud passed and the air cleared. As he neared the top of the path, Boba stopped behind large rock spire, holstered his pistol, and held up his hands.

A one-and-a-half-meter tall figure stood fifteen paces behind Boba and held a blaster aimed at him. The assailant wore a wide-eyed silver helmet with toxin-filter and lean chest armor marked with a red starburst.

"Gotcha," a young girl's voice rang out.

"Really?" Boba questioned.

A small beep emitted from at the girl's feet. She looked down to see the split second red light of a sonic charge at her feet just as it exploded. Her body fell limp to the ground, the helmet clanging on the boulder next to her as she fell.

Boba dusted off his gauntlets with a confident aura, and called to the shelter, "PZ, get the girl inside!" He turned and walked the few meters left to the shelter, as a dark gray humanoid droid stepped out.

"She is getting better," PZ-85 stated with flatness.

"No," Boba replied. "Just get her in."

* * *

 **According to the Disney-sanctioned Star Wars Aftermath, Jawas had possession of a set of Mandalorian Armor shortly after the Pit of Carkoon fight. If you are interested in finding out what the "series of fortunate events" are that led to Boba's recovery of this armor please read my other fanfiction Episode VIII Rise of the Dark Jedi.**


	4. DARK BOUNTY: Patch

The shelter was only a small part of the residence, as the rock face of the valley had been cut to accommodate a storage room and two sleeping quarters. Boba walked through the door and set his dented helmet on a base to the right of the door. He slipped off his gauntlets and placed them beside the helmet. Then he strode to the food storage, grabbed a piece of salted groat meat, and tore off a sizable bite with his teeth as he sat down.

The protocol droid returned with the girl already recovering. She still donned her helmet, but held her head with her right hand, her left arm draped over PZ-85. She was weak and tottered to a seat.

"You didn't have to arm the charge," she said.

"Had you been more aware, it wouldn't have mattered," Boba retorted.

"You're a real nerfherder," the girl said with acidic resolve and removed her helmet. She was an eleven-year-old-girl, and her black hair fell to her shoulders, framing her olive skin and striking green eyes. She squinted her eyes and rubbed her temple trying to soothe a headache she suffered from the sonic charge. "One of these days, I'm gonna get the best of you, like my mother always did."

Boba laughed and waved the salted meat at the girl. "Listen here, Patch. Believing myths isn't going to make you any better. You're mother _never_ got the best of me." He took another bite of the groat.

Patch crossed her arms and glared at him. "Then why'd she tell me all the time how she did?"

"I knew her twenty-five years longer than you did. She had a way of remembering things the way she wanted to," Boba replied.

"Like the Sarlacc pit?" Patch questioned, inconspicuous assurance displayed on her face.

Boba tensed his lips. "She also didn't know when to shut up. And you got that trait from her just fine."

"Well, with you gone for months at a time, I gotta talk, or no one does," Patch replied. "PZ ain't exactly great at small talk."

The protocol droid perked up, "I regret that my programming is limited in the function of what she refers to as _small talk_. Perhaps a programming upgrade will remedy that."

Boba ignored the droid as was his usual pattern.

"And if you would bring me on your bounty hunts-" Patch started.

"Enough of that," Boba interrupted.

"What's the problem?" Patch asked. "Are you afraid I'll get myself killed."

"No, worse," Boba replied. "I'm afraid that you'll get _me_ killed." He stood up and looked to PZ-85. "I got an ion pulse generator and a new power cell in the _Blade_. Load them into the sand speeder to take to the aerie."

"Yes, Master Boba," the droid replied.

"And another thing," Patch began again.

"You're done," Boba said raising his voice and pointing his finger at her. "Get to the speeder. We've got work to do."

Patch crossed her arms and glared at the table with a huff, then got up to leave.

"Patch," Boba said.

She looked back with annoyance.

"Your helmet."

She returned back to the table and swiped it up.

….

A fully armored Boba, Patch, and PZ-85 sped through the dry, rocky valley on the sand speeder, working their way up a narrow path toward the top of the canyon. Boba drove, and PZ-85 scanned the skies with vigilance.

"Anything, PZ?" Boba questioned.

"The skies are clear, sir," the droid replied as his long neck arched to direct its large eyes at the sky. "No probe or spy droids on my scans."

"Good," Boba replied.

The path dead-ended at a flat rock face, but Boba did not slow the speeder as he headed straight for the apparent unyielding surface. The speeder approached just under twenty meters, then ten, then five without slowing. Finally, it disappeared into the orange facade, only the dust the speeder had stirred showing evidence that they had been there.

Inside the grotto, behind the holographic facade, Boba parked the speeder and leapt out, grabbing the new power cell. He walked through the dim light to a control display at the wall and opened a one-meter panel ventral to it. He removed the old two-foot power cell and replaced it with the new one. Then he replaced the panel and hit the control display. Lights came to life revealing an immense cavern that stretched at least half a kilometer deep and wide. It was an old Geonosian hive now abandoned of life. However, it was not empty. In the center, perched with majestic semblance stood a Corellian YT-1300 light freighter, bright and clean, having been carefully detailed over the past year. The ship looked brand new.

"How is she doing?" Boba asked.

"The _Falcon_ is just a month from flyin' again, I imagine," Patch replied with proud satisfaction.

* * *

 **For the story of how Boba Fett ended up with the _Millennium Falcon_ check out  Episode VIII Rise of the Dark Jedi and the epilogue of Episode IX The Legacy of the Sith. **


	5. DARK BOUNTY: The Aerie and the Falcon

"Ain't nobody can take care of her like I can," Patch bragged. "Still got some work, though."

Boba walked up to the Falcon and touched the underside toward the stern, and investigated the hull. "How's her integrity, Patch?"

The girl smiled. "One hundred percent and ready for the vacuum of space."

Boba nodded. "And the sublight drive I picked up last month from Donal on the Smuggler's Moon?"

"Installed no problem," she replied.

"So what's left?" Boba questioned.

Patch bit her lower lip and walked up to stand by Boba. "That's the thing . . . the power core is pretty messed up. The housing is cracked, and it's leaking. Don't know if that was going on before it was shot through- if the impact broke it or made it worse. Whatever, if you want it to fly, we need a new one."

"It can't fly with its current core?" Boba asked.

"Well, yeah. If you want to turn it off and let it cool off every five minutes. We'll hardly be making any long trips," Patch said sarcastically.

"A wonder you spent all that time putting on the armaments first instead of fixing the core," PZ-85 commented.

Both Patch and Boba looked to the droid and said in unison, "Shut-up!"

"A wonder also-you complaining that I don't do small talk," the droid said in a low voice to himself.

"Anything else?" Boba asked Patch.

"Just a little work on the motivator. The cracked core housing caused it some residual damage, but I don't think the motivator needs to be replaced."

"Alright," Boba said changing the subject. "Patch, get the ion pulse generator from the speeder and let's get that in."

"What do you need that for?" Patch asked.

"Security. Just put it on an inconspicuous coded toggle in the cockpit." Boba said, and Patch nodded realizing what Boba was intending.

A few hours of work had left Boba in the engine compartment working on the motivator, and Patch in the cockpit finishing the installation of the toggle switch under the control board. PZ-85 continued to monitor the perimeter outside when the white lights of the cavern flashed red and an alarm erupted.

Boba jumped out of the engine compartment, dropping his tools and ran down the ramp. Patch followed one step behind him.

"What's out there, PZ?" Boba quipped.

"Not here, Master," PZ-85 replied. "Back at the base. We have visitors that have tripped the alarm."

As always Boba picked up his gauntlets and helmet. "We're shutting it down," he barked as he ran to the control panel and punched it, killing the lights. "Let's go."

...

The speeder was on its way, but Boba was taking it up to the top of the canyon and rushing toward their base from above in order to get a better view on the trespassers. After twenty minutes of tight maneuvering up the canyon and then twenty minutes of the straightaway at the top, they finally arrived. Each dismounted the speeder and crept on their hands and knees to the sharp canyon edge to peek over the side at their base across the valley.

There were five individuals scraping around their base and five speeder bikes. Three of the men were hunting the premises and turning over anything they could; an overweight dark green Aqualish, a wolf-like Defel with a long rifle, and an Iridonian Zabrak with long hair and two impressive black blades. Behind them, overseeing the plundering was a Devaronian with large demon-like horns and a black assassin droid.

"Who are they?" Patch asked.

"Not sure about all of them," Boba said. "But that droid is a problem."

"IG-88," PZ-85 stated.

Boba, a little miffed, huffed at the droid, "I know that, PZ. I'll ask you if I want your input."

"IG-88?" Patch questioned.

"Never mind," Boba replied. "You just need to stay here and don't get near him." Boba looked directly at Patch. "Did you hear me? Stay right here, Patch."

Patch nodded and furrowed her brow.

With that, Boba crawled away from the edge and started to make his way down on a hidden path to their left.

Patch turned to PZ-85. "You know, I hate it when he calls me that. . ."


	6. DARK BOUNTY: The Raiders

The Devaronian looked on with amusement as the three raiders relayed in and out of the shelter, tossing anything they could out. The assassin droid stood still and lifeless.

The pile of furniture and storage bins stacked higher each minute.

"You findin' anything?" the Devaronian called out.

"Trouble," a resolute and gruff voice from behind him returned.

The black assassin droid raised its blaster in a flash, its long head swivelling to focus its dominant artificial red eye on the newcomer. The Devaronian spun around and promptly drew his sidearm as well, just an instant behind the droid.

Boba Fett stood, the dusty wind blowing his short cape, staring directly down the barrel of his carbine rifle.

"What's the meaning of this? And talk quick," Boba ordered.

The red Devaronian, upon recognizing Boba, laughed and replaced his blaster. "Fett!" he clamored. "Good to see you."

He stepped forward to address Boba Fett. The high-pitched whine of Boba's charging rifle sounded. The Devaronian stopped short and held up his hands as IG-88 charged his own still raised blaster. The three raiders, now seeing Boba stepped up behind, their hands each fingering their own weapons.

"Whoa, there," the red skinned leader cautioned Boba and his men. "No need for that."

Boba did not move a muscle. IG-88 did not stir either.

"Talk now," Boba again ordered, "or you're never going to talk again."

"I see," the horned man said. "That's enough, IG-88."

The droid lowered its weapon.

"We're not here to stir up a problem. My name is Brackus. And the Keeper sent me." He bowed his head slightly in salute. "Why don't you shoulder your weapon and let's talk. I've been sent with a profitable deal for you."

"I don't do deals with the Keeper anymore," Boba said. "And the rifle stays on you."

"Guys, make him shoulder his weapon," Brackus said. Instantaneously, all blasters were again aimed at Boba. "I would like to have a peaceful negotiation, but have it your way. No matter. I die, you die, but the Keeper still gets his prize eventually-the _Millennium Falcon_."

Boba's shoulders lowered as he thought for a split second, and then he holstered his rifle on his back. The rest put away theirs as well.

"It'll be a cold day on Mustafar before anyone gets my _Falcon_ ," Patch's voice rang out from twenty meters up.

Boba swung his head around to see Patch without her helmet rushing down the path, a blaster in her hands. PZ-85, also armed followed behind.

"Fambaa!" Boba cursed.

"Sorry, Master," PZ-85 yelled out. "She rushed off."

Boba looked back to Brackus, took a deep breath, and attempted a bluff. "Well, as you can see. . . I'm not alone. Don't be fooled by the girl's size, and that protocol droid has battle programming that you should be concerned about."

Brackus smiled and fingered his chin.

Patch and PZ-85 stopped ten paces behind Boba, both having rifles raised.

"Well, this is exciting," Brackus clapped his hands and hooted. "So you do have the _Falcon_! Our intel was correct!"

Boba clenched his empty fists in anger because of Patch and PZ-85.

"I can't see your face behind that mask," Brackus said. "But I bet you aren't happy."

Boba's ambiguous mask stared back at him without a word.

"So, then let's get to the offer. Three million credits," Brackus stated. "A very good offer."

"No," Boba said. "I told you, I don't deal with the Keeper."

"Oh, to be sure, Fett, the Keeper forgives those items you stole from him years back. That is if you are willing to barter." Brackus smiled showing a row of sharp yellow teeth.

"You can tell that insect he can keep his credits," Patch chimed in.

This was too much for Boba and he lost his cool. "If you don't shut your trap, I'm going to throw you to a space slug!"

Brackus was amused again and laughed, but then coughed and sputtered as he stopped laughing abruptly. He looked at the girl and his eyes widened.

"I recognize that girl," he said in a low voice, his pointed finger outstretched.

The dark IG-88 droid stepped closer and rotated its eye to focus on Patch. Boba lowered his hand to his disruptor pistol.

"Yes, yes! She's a clone. One of the Terrah models from the last war. The clones the First Order had used." Brackus continued and made a step forward.

Boba quickly warned, "Stop there. And it's best if you stop talking."

But Brackus didn't listen. "She's so young. I've never seen the Kaminoans commission them this young. Unless . . ."

"That's enough, Brackus," Boba warned.

"She's unaltered! The Kaminoans must not have altered her genetic code from Terrah's. She might as well be the original," Brackus continued, then looked at Boba. "Just like you! Of course, we know that. The Keeper has known about _you_ for a long time. But this! Oh, he's going to be thrilled to hear this. The _Falcon_ and two unaltered clone primes- both a Jango prime and a Terr-"

His monologue was cut short by a charred blaster wound on his forehead, Boba having fired his disruptor pistol from his hip. The Devaronian fell to the ground, dead.

A chaotic snapping and clicking of armed and charged weapons followed as every hand and paw and robotic claw found a blaster, rifle, and blade.

Boba held up his left hand coolly, a thermal detonator in his hand. "All I need to do is drop this and we all go. I warned Brackus, now don't be fools like him."

There was a moment of silence as the wind kicked up more sand. Their eyes darted uncertainly between each other.

The assassin droid broke the quiet with its unnatural IG droid speech pattern. "Query: Do you reject the Keeper's terms."

"Yes, and he knows why," Boba replied. "Now get out of here, and take this meat with you." Boba kicked the dead Brackus.

There was a moment when none moved, then IG-88 ordered, "Statement: Pick up Brackus and remove from the valley."

The raiders reluctantly lowered their weapons and the Aqualish bent over to pick up the limp Devaronian. Each mounted their speeder-bike, one now unmanned. They tried to set up a tow-rope to bring the unmanned bike with them.

"No, the speeder-bike stays," Boba called. "That's the price for the damage you caused to my shelter."

The raiders started off, irefully, their gaze averted away from Boba Fett.

When their speeders were out of site, Boba deactivated the thermal detonator and replaced his pistol at his side. He turned with ominous umbrage toward Patch.

"You forgot your helmet, Patch" he stated with a displeased tone.

Patch looked at the ground, knowing how she had messed up, but whispered to herself, "My name isn't Patch." Her real name, the name her mother had given her, she had not heard spoken for five years.

Boba was too occupied with his thoughts and did not hear her.


	7. DARK BOUNTY: Patch's Flight

It took them a few hours to replace everything that had been disrupted, the work taking the edge off of the awkward silence between Boba and Patch. Boba would not look at her, and the guilt weighed heavy on her. Once finished, Boba slumped into a chair and rubbed his temples, trying to strategize their future. He squinted his eyes and tensed his lips as he thought.

Patch tiptoed around him in the tight shelter and made it to one of the sleeping quarters, having come up with a solution that seemed most beneficial for both of them. There was a rustling in the room for a minute; and then she exited with a pack, stuffed full. She walked around to the door to leave the shelter, her intentions evident.

"You're forgetting your helmet, again," Boba said without looking up, knowing she was leaving and not planning on stopping her.

Patch stalled, turned back to the table in front of Boba and with one hand picked up her helmet.

"They'll be coming back. You're going. That, I understand. We'll all have to get out," Boba said.

Patch looked at Boba, a pang of regret rising in her.

"I'm sorry I came down the canyon. I should'a stayed put," Patch said.

Boba took a mouthful from a bottle of Cheedoan whiskey. "Yeah," he replied, but that was all he said.

Patch turned to leave. However ,her curiosity halted her before she left, and this was the only time she could ask. "Can I ask you a question?" Patch asked.

Boba did not answer.

"Did you love my mother?" she asked.

He did not answer for a few seconds, then replied in a defeated tone, "Can it install a power core?"

"What?" Patch said, confusedly.

"Can it hide the _Falcon_? Can it keep those raiders from coming back? Can it erase this afternoon?"

"What are you talking about?" Patch asked.

"Love," Boba said flatly.

Patch did not reply.

"Then there is no use discussing it," Boba stated and took another swig of the whiskey.

This was not enough for Patch. "Then why did you take me in after she died if you didn't love her?" Her face looked at him hopefully, her eyebrows lifted up in expectation.

Boba smiled at the thought. "You're great at fixing stuff, Patch."

Her face fell. She readjusted the pack on her shoulder and said in anger, "My name's not Patch! And I'd like to see how long it takes for you to _patch_ up the _Falcon_ by yourself! Hope you finish it before the Keeper gets it. Then at least you can watch him fly it off!"

She whipped around and stormed out the door, slamming it as she left.

A moment later the loud engine of the starhopper hummed outside and then grew fainter and fainter as it hastened away.

"She _is_ just like her mother," Boba said to himself.

PZ-85 opened the door and stepped into the shelter stiffly.

"Master, it seems Patch has flown off with the starhopper," he reported. "Did you send Patch away for a purpose?"

Boba took another sip from the bottle. "Shut-up, PZ."


	8. DARK BOUNTY: Terrah Otlell

Boba ran down a long gray corridor, followed close behind by a dark-haired woman with lean chest armor and a small pack. A red starburst was painted on her armor.

"Red! Did you get the artifact?" he called out to Terrah.

She did not stop her stride but called out, "Got it. No one's following us. You must have taken care of the prison guards."

"Yeah," Boba replied as if it was too obvious.

Boba had not worn Mandalorian armor since the Sarlacc pit twenty-five years previous. The galaxy had assumed that Boba Fett was dead after the Pit of Carkoon; and though he had another set of armor (other than the set that Terrah had pawned), it was advantageous for him to maintain the rouse. Therefore, he only wore the gauntlets and some of the weaponry.

This was not the first time Boba Fett had worked on a bounty with Terrah since she had left him on the sands of Tatooine. It had become a regular occurrence as the Keeper had often employed them together, and this time, they were sent to Megalox Beta to steal a Clone Wars artifact from Grakkus the Hutt. It seemed that even though Grakkus was in a high-security prison-city, he still was able to amass a collection of Jedi-artifacts; and the head of General Grievous interested the Keeper enough to enlist two of the best bounty hunters in the galaxy.

Boba and Terrah ran to the end of the hall where a door to the landing platform stood resolutely closed.

"I'll get it," Terrah said and started removing the control panel. Her fingers worked quickly with the small tools and electrical cords, as she snapped a few sparks between frayed wires.

Boba stood sentinel, guarding the corridor with his carbine rifle; the grenade launcher attached ventral to the rifle barrel was armed with physical charges.

The door opened with a hiss, and a gush of foul air rushed in blowing Terrah's black hair back. Before them was the landing pad, and on it rested Slave-1. Boba's old ship faced them, cockpit forward-another inheritance he had received from his father.

The gray wind blew across its hull as the low fog was swept over it with the gusts.

"This seems a little too easy," Boba noted.

Before he could say another word, Terrah's lips were on his. Here was another possibility he had not anticipated; Terrah had a way of doing that to Boba. She kissed him passionately and wrapped her arms around him. Boba returned the kiss willingly, but still gripped his rifle.

She withdrew and stared with her memorable green eyes into his, as her hands found their way seductively to his chest plate.

"I'm sorry, Honey," she said and suddenly pushed him. He took a step back as she swiftly hopped outside the door and pushed the outside control panel.

The door flashed shut in front of him. He stood for a second looking at the empty grey-black surface. Then laughed out loud and shook his head.

"How I hate that woman," he said with a smile.

Boba leapt to the open control panel and aptly opened the door after a few twists of wires.

The door opened again with the familiar hiss, and Boba saw his Slave-1 ascending before him, just having taken off. He sprinted as fast as he could and held up his gauntlet, still fitted with a fibrocord. He fired it with precision as the barbed dart made contact with the port stabilizer and stuck fast.

His body lifted off the ground as Slave-1 rose to about ten meters. Boba started to retract the cord, but the port stabilizer burst into flames. The resulting blast threw Boba to the ground on his back. He hit hard and lost his breath.

Slave-1 began to spin with only the one stabilizer before the starboard engine stabilizer exploded as well. To Boba, the ship then seemed to float in the air for an eternity before it was swallowed up in flames, a red and orange flower of heat blooming from the shell of Slave-1.

He watched in horror as his ship seemed to float to the landing platform and wilted in gray smoke, the foul breeze of Megalox-Beta sweeping the black smoke to the west.

….

Boba jolted up from his dream sweating, still trying to shake the explosion from his mind. He shook his head and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, wishing he could wipe the memories away as easily. So much of the last five years had been trying to wipe it all away; everything except for Patch. After a few deep breaths, he got up from the cockpit chair of the Falcon where he had fallen asleep from exhaustion after working on the motivator all day.

He walked back to the ramp and stepped out into the lit cavern, rubbing the back of his neck. He strode to the tool crate and started to sift through it, not wasting any time.

PZ-85 gracelessly shuffled up to him. "Master, may I interrupt your . . ."

"What?" Boba said, the dream putting him in an exceptionally unpleasant temperament.

"While you were sleeping we received an open transmission for you," PZ-85 informed.

Boba picked up the wrench he wanted. "Fine, play it."

PZ-85 held out a small holoprojector, and a blue-grey image appeared.

A fat, male humanoid face filled the holograph. He had black, pupil-less eyes and no nose. His wide mouth grinned showing only smooth green gums, as his gaping mouth took up half his face.

"The Keeper, not going to give up, I imagine," Boba said to PZ-85.

The holograph transmission went on. "Boba Fett, I hope my men did not inconvenience you too much. I know they can be a little impulsive."

Boba laughed to himself, but his anger was rising.

The Keeper continued. "I'm sorry to say, my offer of three million credits for the Falcon is no longer on the table-" He hiccoughed then said, "I was hoping you would be more reasonable as that was a very generous offer. But let me change the offer-hic." He hiccoughed again and then removed himself from the holograph.

With the exiting of his image, a girl was pushed into view, her mouth gagged and her hands bound behind her.

"Patch!" Boba exclaimed. Patch's green eyes looked at the Keeper with disdain as she resisted the Aqualish that pushed her into the viewscreen.

"I believe you know this girl," the Keeper stated. "And so my new offer is the Falcon for the girl. To me, it is no matter, either I get a clone prime, or I get the Falcon. This is the kind of deal I love-hic. You have two weeks to decide."

The transmission ended, abruptly.

Boba gripped the wrench, his knuckles turning white.

PZ-85 tilted his head, waiting for Boba's reply. "Shall I play it again for you?"

Boba growled and threw the wrench. It errantly hit the control panel on the wall. The lights died out and they were left in the darkness. In the thick black, the droid could hear Boba flip the tool cart over with a crash, metallic pangs and clashes reverberating throughout the vast aerie.

"Would you like me to turn the lights back on, Master?"


	9. DARK BOUNTY: The Pit of the Keeper

The blue planet of Anthan Prime, located in the Outer Rim of the galaxy, was home to the floating city of Spire, a popular vacation hub for the extremely rich. As a more extravagant alternative to the gas-mining Cloud City, the blue cloud formations created by the unpredictable planetary storms made for dazzling horizons that patrons were willing to pay exorbitant rates for. Spire's elegant architecture was a blend of smooth and sharp lines, having two disc-shaped levels with multiple sharp pinnacle resorts rising from the larger top level. There was nothing unpleasing with the city spectacle, and the vacationers knew it.

However, this was not a vacation locale for the Keeper; to him, it was home. Located on the equator of the larger upper-level disc, his residence had a perfect view of the atmospheric wonders. Many of the wealthy preferred the penthouse suites of the resorts, but the Keeper's unique hobbies required more space than the pinnacle tips provided. His personal landing pad was large enough to accommodate a dozen state-of-the-art black T-85 X-Wings for his men, a suitable defense to any that would try to run off with one of his collections.

Currently, he walked on his two thick legs with a satisfied strut through his massive hangar. Two dozen armed lackeys guarded the open hangar bay that led to the landing pad, and another dozen were peppered throughout the interior. IG-88 and the long-haired Zabrak followed close behind. Antique ships lined the walls from front to back, having been carefully detailed to look pristine in the blue artificial light. He stopped to look at a T-65B X-Wing starfighter from the First Galactic Civil War and gloated to himself with his wide toothless smile. Sitting next to it, a same-era TIE/LN starfighter slept. Added to that, the great hall housed multiple Clone War ships such as the Delta-6 Sprite-class starfighter, the Eta-2 Actis-class interceptor, and even a few Vulture droids. In all, he had over a hundred antique ships in his collection, but as with most obsessions, his appetite was not satiated.

He hiccoughed as he strode to an empty space; the dull grey floor was a stark contrast to ships on either side. It was hollow, devoid, barren; and the Keeper despised it. He closed his black eyes and imagined the _Millennium Falcon_ filling the vacancy, as his wide mouth narrowed to a frown. Then his thoughts turned to the clone girl.

He turned to IG-88 and the Zabrak and with a subtle and low pitched voice said, "Cahil, Eighty-Eight, I would like to talk to the clone-prime."

...

Patch crouched in the dim light of a windowless and red colored room. There was a bench to sit on, but Patch sat on the floor, her head resting on her forearms, which rested on her knees. It had been hours since anyone had visited her, and that was just to give her the daily meal of grain paste and water. She did not cry like most children would but remained silent and observant. She listened carefully to the footsteps outside the door and tried to guess who they were, how often they came and if there was any pattern. She had checked and double-checked the room for any panels or free wires she could find that she might be able to loosen and manipulate. However, it was apparent that the Keeper had a use for a room desolate of anything and everything. It was a prison cell.

Patch, therefore simply sat, and listened. She could hear the door at the end of the hallway zip open and close, then six pairs of feet; one light-footed, one metallic, and one heavy-set. The steps approached and stalled at the front of her door. She listened as the control panel beeped as one of them entered a code, and then finally the door opened.

The Keeper's large body, fitted with a dark-brown tailored suit, filled the frame of the door. The high collar of his suit rose up under his dewlap, and his sleeves extended down to his wrists.

"I hope you are comfortable-hic," the Keeper commented as he entered the room. "This room can be a little stuffy."

Patch desired to remain aloof like Boba, but could not help but speak. "I'm surprised you fit in here."

The Keeper's wide grin vanished. "Cahil, grab the clone-prime," he ordered the horned Zabrak and left the room.

Patch's hands were bound behind her, and she was prodded out of the room and down the hall. After a few minutes of following behind the Keeper down the corridors of his mansion, they arrived at a large set of double doors.

Here the Keeper addressed Patch while entering a code to open the door. "I wanted-hic-to show you this. And I hope it will make an impression on you."

Patch looked confused that he would want to impress her at all. "Whatever," she replied.

"Oh. I'm sure you will not be ambivalent about this room," the Keeper replied.

The double doors slid slowly away as they retreated into the frame on either side, to reveal a pitch-black room that illuminated as the Keeper stepped into it.

It was a large circular room with a prominent pearl desk and chair set in the middle. The ground was carpeted with a mahogany red velvet flooring. Patch noticed that other than the desk, the room was very sparsely furnished, and nothing else was very provocative. Then she saw the walls. Hanging from them were a dozen large dark brown quadrate sculptures, each portraying a body of someone in exquisite pain. She looked at them in horror and wondered why anyone would have such art on display.

"Ah, what do you think?" the Keeper asked. "I just can't help but show these off, especially-hic-to someone like you."

"They're horrible," Patch replied. "You're sick."

The Keeper laughed. "You've seen my collection in the hangar. Fantastic, isn't it? But, you know, I've been collecting ships for over thirty years now, and it just doesn't give me the same thrill as it used to." He hiccupped again and walked over to look closer at the two center pieces. Cahil forced Patch to follow, and IG-88 stayed by the door.

"See these two," he gestured to them as if admiring art. One was a man, his hands behind his back as if bound. His hair was pulled back, and a full beard ornamented the curve of his chin. His eyes were covered with a blast shield. The other was a female Twi'lek with a flight cap; her arms were behind her in the same fashion as the man. Both their faces were filled with anguish as their mouths grimaced and their eyes were clenched shut.

"These were my first. They have been displayed here for twenty years now. Beautiful." He hiccoughed again, then took a deep breath as his smile overtook his face. "It wasn't easy, though. This one here-hic." He pointed to the man. "He was a Jedi, Kanan Jarrus. . . not his real name. He was quite tight-lipped about that name. This was his." He patted a lightsaber that hung on his hip next to a small blaster pistol.

Patch's eyes widened as she began to understand what the Keeper was saying.

"And her." He pointed to the Twi-lek female. "If it wasn't for her, I don't think I ever would have gotten him-hic. She was the bait, you see. Apparently, they had an affection for each other." He stared deeply into the immovable and graceful face of the Twi'lek. "Hera Syndulla, the heroine of the Republic. Even in agony, she is beautiful, don't you think?"

"Those," Patch swallowed hard. "Those are real people?"

The Keeper opened his mouth wide in a mammoth laugh, the cacophony of his roar bouncing off the walls. His hiccoughs broke his sputtering laugh as he tried to speak. "What did you think-hic? These were statues-hic? No-hic-they are carbonite! Only one of them died in the process; the rest are in hibernation."

Patch looked at the twelve of them hanging lifeless and frozen. A chill of fear gripped her, but she remained still.

"That one's a general." He pointed to the next down the line. "That one-a Resistance pilot. All of them- hic- history makers-hic-and antiques-hic-and collectables!" He waved his arms toward the rest, then refocused on the two in the center. "Can you believe it-hic? I've had those two on display for years before I even thought of collecting men. And now-hic-after collecting the rest for three years I have added ten more. I only wish I had thought of it for Terrah."

The evil words hung in the air as Patch processed what they meant. She furrowed her brow and hoped what she was thinking was not true.

"You killed my mother," Patch finally accused.

The Keeper put his hands behind his back. His face grew stern and business like. "No, Prime, I did not kill your mother. Eighty-eight did, and I rewarded him handsomely for it. Though it would have been more if he had gotten Boba Fett, too."

IG-88 stood by the door as if lifeless, except for his red eye that rotated occasionally.

"Why," Patch asked in almost a whisper.

The Keeper bent down to look directly at Patch, his black eyes piercing her, and his hot breath warming her face. "Because Terrah Otlell would not stay loyal to me. You are proof of that." His mouth morphed into a grimace, and sharp yellow teeth emerged through the green gums. His hiccoughs ceased as his focus sharpened.

Patch's voice began to shake with the despair that moved inside her, and she struggled to give birth to her words. "Why. . . why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Prime, if Boba doesn't give me the _Falcon_ , you will be hanging on my wall."

Her face fell, and she toiled to hold back her tears.

"Yes, that's it," the Keeper said, waving his fingers before her. "That's the face you will make when I freeze you. Beautiful!"

Patch averted her eyes from him toward the hanging Twi'lek woman. The woman's face was hopeless but majestic and courageous. She wondered if she would be that brave and whether she would be as graceful when the time came; because Patch was certain, Boba was not coming.

* * *

 **What! Kanan Jarrus and Hera Syndula in carbonite? Where is the rest of the _Ghost_ crew? Check out my other fan fiction,  Episode VIII Rise of the Dark Jedi, to see what Sabine Wren and Zeb Orellios have been up to. **


	10. DARK BOUNTY: Meeting at Nar Shaddaa

Nar-Shaddaa, the Smuggler's Moon, was a hive of villainy in the Outer Rim. The largest moon of Nal Hutta, every square kilometer of the moon was covered with a sprawling city. Felga the Hutt ruled the city-moon with self-appointed authority after Grakkus had been carried off to Megalox Beta a few decades ago. She was the longest reigning Hutt on Nar Shaddaa and with reason. The criminal syndicates that she managed were meticulously controlled; and with proceeds from extorted businessmen, there was plenty of money to afford a sprawling and intricate thug force. Most residents knew the fear of the Hutt clan, but the chronicity of the Hutt presence had become a way of life, and as in most places of the galaxy, people had a tenacious way of surviving.

The cantinas and saloons were one of the few escapes people had, and the Green Krayt Saloon was a favorite in Hutta Town. A four armed and scantily-clad female Codru-Ji mixed and served drinks at the bar to thirsty patrons, while the insectoid Colicoids also wandered among the tables waiting on those that had sat down. In the corner, a small band of Bith played an upbeat song which no one noticed. In fact, no one paid attention to anyone, except the drink servers.

A Trandoshan sat at a corner table, leaning in and speaking in hushed tones with a hooded human figure. Their quiet conversation was muffled by the mumbling words of others and the music.

However, the commotion of the saloon suddenly ceased as heavy Mandalorian boots stepped through the front door. The music stopped and all eyes turned to the door. It was a figure that most of the patrons had known, and they knew trouble frequently followed close behind him. Boba Fett, armor-clad walked up to the bar but did not order anything. Instead, his imposing gaze scanned the room from behind his helmet. He saw the Trandoshan and moved to the table, his boot steps echoing in the quiet room. Pulling back a chair, he joined the Trandoshan and the man. Conversations slowly began again and the music started to play, but much lower and slower this time.

Boba leaned back and called to a Colicoid. "Another round for these two." Then he addressed the Trandoshan. "Donal, since you weren't at your workshop, I knew I'd find you here selling out Felga the Hutt. And this must be a friend from the Senate."

Both Donal and the human showed their discomfort. This was not a meeting that either wanted to be widely known. Donal's teeth shown as his lips raised in a snarl. "Don't you have a bounty to chase after?" Donal snapped.

The Colicoid brought two more drinks for Donal and the human, then with his arthropod feet, it clicked away promptly.

"I'm retired, remember?" Boba replied.

"Yeah, if you're retired, then you're just as damaged as that ship of yours," Donal answered.

"Enough of that talk," Boba said. "Or I'll talk about this meeting here with Felga."

The human and Donal did not say anything, but Donal reached under the table.

"I don't think so. Keep your hands on the table," Boba snapped. "I know I've interrupted your conversation. You can snitch on the Hutts later, but you and I need to talk, now." He turned to the hooded man. "You can go."

The man got up immediately and scurried out of the saloon, leaving his newly delivered drink untouched.

Donal grabbed his fresh shot and threw it back, slamming the empty glass down on the table. "You gonna take that one." Donal slid the man's drink toward Boba.

He pushed it back to Donal. "I don't drink when I'm out."

Donal crossed his arms and leaned back. "So, what do you want now?"

"A power core," Boba replied with a level tone.

"If you want an original like normal, that'll take time and credits. One of these days, that classic is gonna put you on the streets." The Trandoshan hissed with the last word.

"A new core," Boba said, knowing that Donal could produce those quickly from his shop's storehouse.

"Well, if that's the case, I can get that today," Donal said confidently. "Nice, not to have anything complicated this time. Two hundred thousand."

"Fine," Boba said.

Donal was shocked. "You aren't going to barter!"

"No." Boba leaned in. "'Cause that includes labor. You're helping me put it in."

The Trandoshan almost fell out of his seat.


	11. DARK BOUNTY: Mending the Falcon

"Well, that is somethin' to look at," the Trandoshan whistled as he stood in the open cavern, gazing at the _Falcon_. "Never thought you would let me see it."

"Neither did I," Boba said to himself, his helmet under his arm.

"I can't say I was too thrilled with the hood and strip search, though," Donal replied.

Next to Donal was his small work crew—a gray skinned Dug with a sour grin on his face and a repair droid—scratched and dented from wear.

PZ-85 hobbled up to join Boba Fett.

"Its core housing needs repair, and I'm still working on the motivator," Boba stated.

Donal looked to Boba, "Why don't you let me tell you what she needs?"

"Cause, _she_ only needs _you_ for the core and its housing." Boba stared Donal down.

Donal stepped back, the coward that he was, and then remarked. "Sure, but I bet the hyperdrive needs some work-it always needs work."

"Just get on that core; I'll worry about the rest," Boba ordered.

"Yes," Donal hissed and averted his gaze from Boba's piercing glare. "Let's go, Timcamca."

The Dug looked to PZ-85 and barked some obviously harsh language at it in his native Dug language.

PZ-85 tilted his head and replied, "I'm sorry, sir, but I do not speak Dug."

Donal laughed, "Leave it to Boba to have a protocol droid with no protocol programming!"

"I am sorry to disappoint you, sir," PZ-85 replied. "But my language programming has been removed to make room for-"

"Enough, PZ," Boba interrupted. "He's just saying he isn't fond of protocol droids."

"Well, I'm not fond of him, Master," PZ-85 replied.

Boba smiled, "You and I agree on that."

...

Boba oversaw the repair with diligence. Within two days the core was replaced, and its housing mended. Donal's crew was skillful and made quick work with the rehabilitation, faster than Boba had anticipated.

Boba sat in the pilot chair with an ambivalent sentiment, satisfied but disappointed as he ran his hands over the controls.

Donal called from the back. "Are you going to start it or what! I need to listen to the engine back here, so whenever you want to. . . but I'll charge extra if you want to daydream."

Boba Fett did not respond to Donal's delusion that he could add to the charges and reached under the console for the toggle switch that Patch had installed. He flipped the switch on and off in an ordered pattern before punching the ignition. The engines came to life as they quickened with a healthy tone that caused Donal to whoop from the back with elation.

"No reflux to the motivator," Donal commented. "The housing is holding." He came up the cockpit and sat in the co-pilot's seat. "Now, all that is left is for you to just take her out and see what she can do."

The _Millennium Falcon_ began to rise from the cave floor and hovered there, four meters in the air as if hanging from the cave ceiling. Boba lowered his hand to the sublight drive accelerator and gripped it. However, Boba sat immovable, staring out the cockpit window at the cave entrance. The _Falcon_ did not move, either.

"What are you doing? Let's go," Donal goaded.

Boba removed his hand from the accelerator and lowered the _Falcon_ back to the ground. It's landing gear caused a hollow echo throughout the cave as it came down.

Timcamca, the Dug strutted into the cockpit on his forelimbs and joined them; his angry comments coming with him.

Donal was baffled. "You must be as broken as this ship was. Not even going to test it out?" He shook his head, disappointed. "A waste," Donal hissed and got up. "Fixin' this treasure, so you can cage it up in here. Even put an ion pulse generator in so it wipes out anything electrical and shuts the whole ship down. That'll stop anyone from flyin' it. Unless you deactivate it, that is. Don't think I didn't notice that."

Timcamca made another harsh remark in Dug speech. "Etchoota, oda!"

"It will fly," Boba said. "Right to the Keeper."

Donal's eyes widened. "Well, that's just fine. The only thing worse than caging this girl in a cave, is caging her in the Keeper's hangar! At least he'll be happy with that, and I'm sure your pocketbook will be, too!"

"I'm not caging her, Donal," Boba said darkly. "And the Keeper isn't going to be happy about it."

Donal squinted his eyes at the implication.

Boba turned and faced Donal, his eyes almost looking through the Trandoshan. "How would you and your crew like to pad your pockets a little more? 'Cause I've got one more job for you."


	12. DARK BOUNTY: Patch's Peril

It had been four days since Patch had last been brought before the Keeper. Most of the time, she was kept in the isolation cell, but Cahil, the Zabrak, would bring her out twice daily. At these times her hands were always bound behind her back with polymer bonds. Patch realized that because she was small, she could slip her hands under her legs if she wanted to, and bring them in front of her. The Keeper's men had obviously not ever bound an adolescent before, and were not aware that the same bonds would not be effective. She had not tried to free herself with this advantage yet but was waiting for the right moment.

Cahil arrived at the appropriate time and tossed the bonds in for Patch to put on. Once she had obediently donned them, he opened the door and checked to make sure they were tight enough. He tightened them as was his usual pattern, then gruffly gripped her upper arm and wrenched her out of the room. One of the two black blades on his hip clanged against the door frame on the way out. However, instead of turning to the left, he turned the right toward the Keeper's study.

Patch reasoned that she was to have another meeting with the Keeper, and she tried to remember the courage she saw on the Twi'lek. She took a deep breath.

They arrived at the study double doors and waited for them to be opened from within. As the doors slipped open, IG-88 stood there, and two grey-skinned Neimoidians scurried through, their orange eyes glancing down at Patch. They appeared happy to have concluded business and even happier to be leaving. The wolf-like Defel followed behind to ensure that they found their way to the hangar.

Cahil and Patch then walked into the large circular room they had shown her before. The carbonite _art_ was still hanging on the wall but had been rearranged to make two spaces next to the Jedi and the Twi'lek. No one else was in the room, which surprised Patch. They walked across the red carpet to another door on the far side that opened for them, unbidden. The Keeper's sputtering laughter could be heard from within, and the proud voice of another woman defying him.

Upon entering, Patch noticed that the Keeper was leaning in and speaking in low tones to a woman that was bound with her hands behind her back. She was a middle-aged woman, with blonde hair bound up tightly. Her face was stern and defiant.

Behind them, a large machine-driven claw angled down from the ceiling, with its hungry mandibles gaping open. Large tubes and ducts twisted around it, and the floor beneath the metal claw was a mechanical platform which could be lowered into the floor. A dull red light lit the room as if they were in a furnace, even though the room was uncomfortably cold. A control panel stood behind the Keeper, and multiple carts with carbon gas canisters were chained to the floor throughout the room. It was the carbonite freeze chamber.

The Keeper turned to the newcomers, his grotesque smile ornamenting his face. "I'm so glad you have arrived-hic," he said. Then turned to the bound woman kneeling on the smooth black floor. "Admiral Alana Dentin," he stated out loud as if introducing her. "The payment for a Lucrehulk-class Droid control ship. But-hic-don't think too highly of yourself, Admiral, the Neimoidians also paid out thirty million credits for it as well." He held out a small white data chip and then placed it in his chest pocket. Patch was sure to notice.

He turned to Cahil. "Bring the prime clone over here. We'll process the Admiral, then her-hic. No use turning on the carbon-freeze for just one when we can get more done today."

Patch blurted out, "More! But the two weeks ain't up!"  
"Ah, yes," the Keeper hiccoughed. "But I have a better-hic-solution. You see, Fett is coming soon. And there is a potential for three carbonite trophies."

Patch's eyes widened at that hope that he would be coming for her but then bit her lip at the Keeper's implication.

"So," the Keeper continued. "I am excited to say, in one day, I will have a First Order admiral." He held his hand toward Admiral Dentin. "And the _Millennium Falcon_ -hic." He walked over to Patch. "And two clone primes!"

"But what about your deal!" Patch demanded.

The Keeper waved his hands wiping away the comment as if it was that easy to dismiss his word, and turned to Cahil. "Move the admiral into position."

Admiral Dentin was manhandled and forced under the claw. Her manacles were then shackled to a fetter hold on the floor of the platform, and her feet were then bound to the platform as well. She was able to stand, but could not escape. Still, she looked with anger and pride at the Keeper.

"Any last words, Admiral," the Keeper asked.

She spit on the floor. "We all die someday. You better hope no one ever wakes me up."

The Keeper chuckled to himself, then hiccoughed. "Lower her." Cahil, behind the control station, moved a lever. Patch watched timorously as he did.

The platform lowered slowly and definitively into the pit, its gears creaking. As it descended, so too did the confidence of the admiral as she submerged deeper and more completely into her doom. Her proud look melted away as small vents of steam rose around her.

The Keeper, looking on with sublime satisfaction, crossed his arms and gave the order to start the carbon freeze. Cahil obeyed. A blast of white steam and gas erupted from around the admiral and engulfed her. The last thing seen on her face was a brief moment of fear as her eyes widened and she tried to break the bonds.

After five seconds, the gaseous cloud dissipated and the claw reached down to bring out the carbonite product. Admiral Dentin, no longer the face of pride, was frozen in the dark-brown carbonite; pain and fear permanently fixed on her. Her gritted teeth shown under her tensed lips and her eyes were clenched shut in impeccable torment.

Patch looked on with disgust as the Keeper gloated over the result. She took a deep breath again and detached herself from the scene as if she was watching a holograph.

The Keeper walked around the admiral and investigated each facet, commenting on the merits and flaws of the final product: the lovely tension lines of her face, and the geometric angles of her grasping fingers-the polymer bonds having dissolved in the carbonite. Then he looked at Patch with the same penetrating gaze. "Now we just need to wait for Boba Fett to arrive."


	13. DARK BOUNTY: The Hangar

A titanic azure cloud formation approached the floating city of Spire on Anthan Prime from the west, threatening to devour the magnificent floating city in its tempestuous waves. Lightning bursts cracked from within, illuminating the blue clouds with living white flashes, as the internal rumblings of its thunder echoed off the tall pinnacles of Spire. The wind picked up and raced through the streets, causing tourists to grip their hats and run for shelter as the sharp gales cut into the city. Powerful and exotic, the Anthan Prime monsoons provided tourists with excitement and beauty; and from the comfort of their grandiose resorts they could watch the lightning manifestations while praising their own wealth for the opportunity.

The monsoon progressively engulfed the city, its nebulous clouds rolling over the city and shaking it in its raging currents. The streets were quickly abandoned but not quiescent as thunder roared and the winds screamed.

The Keeper's men stood back from the open hangar bay door, their hands on their weapons as they stared into the dark blue cloud. A barrier energy shield was raised to prevent the winds from entering. All the lackeys that were stationed to guard the port observed the dark clouds and the sudden bursts of lightning from within.

The wolf Defel walked up to join them, chewing on a small metal pick. "Looks like trouble," he commented and spit the pick from his mouth. "A day for dyin'."

The nameless lackeys filled with anxious thoughts gripped their weapons a little tighter and tensed their shoulders in anticipation. They stared into the tempest, waiting for the man who they knew was coming, Boba Fett.

A flash of lightning lit the cloud, displaying a small, dark shadow in its center. Each successive flare showed the umbrage enlarging, only to be hidden again behind the blue cloud as the flashing light was snuffed. A ship was approaching. The thunder shook the hangar bay which seemed to the Keeper's men to be announcing the dark ship's approach.

Gradually, the clouded veil receded from the forward hull of the ship as the _Millennium Falcon_ emerged; flashes of lightning continued to darken it with backlight. It slowly hovered over the parked and tethered X-Wings and into the hangar, its penumbra passing through the energy shield and over the Keeper's men.

The ship floated purposefully to the center of the immense room, and the Aqualish waved for it to land. The _Falcon_ rotated so it faced the exit and then lowered, steam blasting from its ventral exhaust ports.

Thirty men rushed to surround the _Falcon,_ some ducking behind maintenance carts and parked snub fighters. They readied their anti-armor grenade launchers and blasters. The Aqualish and Defel stood with a wide stance before the _Falcon_ 's ramp, waiting with their rifles ready.

The ramp descended as more bursts of steam erupted, creating a warm fog under the ship. A backlit man's shadow could be seen within as it stepped down the ramp. His heavy boots resounded in the hanger as the fully armed and armored man stepped down the ramp. Boba Fett had his EE-3 carbine rifle charged and ready. A scattered chatter of clicks and charges snapped as the Keeper's men prepared for the possible gunfight. Boba cooly stepped out of the steam and assayed the foes.

The steam dissipated, and PZ-85 cautiously started to work his way down the ramp and join Boba. For once, the droid remained silent.

"I'll need you to give up your firearms," the Defel ordered.

"Show me the girl first," Boba replied with a stern yet nonchalant composure.

The Defel nodded to the Aqualish. The green, bald Aqualish stepped forward and mumbled in his own language a few harsh words between his tusks. He held up a Holo transceiver and turned it on.

The Keeper's smug face appeared, black-eyed and smiling. "Fett-hic-on time, I see."

Boba simply replied. "I need to see the girl."

"Of course. Right to business," the Keeper stated, and the holograph shifted to Patch.

She was held by the upper arm in an uncomfortable position, but she maintained her nerve. "Boba," she started, "Careful, It's a-"

The transmission ended abruptly as it was obvious she was not supposed to speak.

"So, now you've seen her," the Defel said. "Now give up your weapons."

Boba nodded and calmly tossed his rifle a few meters in front of him. Then he removed his pistol. The thirty lackeys sharpened their aim as he did, but the pistol was tossed next to the rifle without incident. PZ-85 shifted uncomfortably behind him.

"Your belt. . ." the Defel said.

Boba reluctantly unfastened the belt and tossed it. Then he widened his stance.

"I'm not a fool, Fett," the Defel stated. "Your gauntlets, too."

Boba's mask gave nothing away; whether he expected to be disarmed of everything or not was a mystery to the Keeper's men. However, he removed his gauntlets and tossed them with finality on the pile.

"Satisfied?" he commented.

"Yes," the Defel answered and nodded to two red-eyed Duroses, which promptly sidled up to Boba. They gripped his arms behind him and snapped on polymer bonds. Another of the Keeper's men, a Weequay, rushed up to collect Boba's weapons. They ignored the protocol droid.

The Defel laughed, "That was much easier than I thought! Didn't you expect a trap?"

"It's always a trap," Boba replied flatly.

At that moment, a cataclysmic quake shook the hangar, as two of the X-Wings on the landing pad exploded into flames. Most of the men lost their balance and stumbled. When they gained their footing each looked out the bay port to see the shadow of an SS-64 assault ship in the strobe-lit clouds. It was Donal's ship, the _Vigilance,_ that he had obtained during the war. The T-shaped silhouette hung in the air, firing its four forward laser cannons into the tethered and unmanned X-Wings, as one-by-one each met its final demise. When Donal had successfully destroyed the twelve parked snub fighters, he then turned tail and sped off.

For a moment no one knew what to do, their ships having been destroyed. Finally, the Defel ordered, "There are ships all around you. Get in them and hunt that slimy fambaa down!"

The Aqualish and nine of the men staggered to and hopped into the collectible single-man fighters. Three TIEs, an X-Wing, a B-wing, two A-Wings, a couple of Clone War-generation fighters, and a Naboo fighter all sped their way out the port.

The Defel looked angrily at Boba. "What did you accomplish with that?"

"You're down ten men," Boba chuckled. "Now the numbers are in my favor." He spun around and instantly gripped the neck of the Duros to his left, snapping it effortlessly; PZ-85 having burned Boba's bindings during Donal's distraction. The Keeper's men, caught off guard, stalled for a fraction of a second before raising their weapons.

Boba ducked and called out, "PZ, time for that programming."

"With pleasure," PZ-85 replied and held up both his arms out right. Rapid fire laser darts fired from his forearms, burning holes in multiple enemies. His upper torso began to spin as his feet magnetically gripped the floor. Soon the red flashes of laser darts sprayed throughout the room from the cyclonic upper body of the droid. Though the shots trilled rapidly from the droid, they were perfectly aimed, and very few missed their intended target. Any men that did not duck for cover, were shot down.

Boba, crouching under the spray, found his weapons and put them back on. By the time he had finished clasping his belt, PZ-85 had expended his darts, and its upper body was slowly coming to a halt. The Defel lay lifeless in front of him, his dark brown fur wet with blood. Boba picked up a rifle from the dead Defel and tossed it to the droid who caught it with its glowing red-hot claws.

A blaster shot zipped past his helmet from behind a maintenance cart, one of the men having found shelter from the droid's barrage. Boba looked in that direction and raised his rifle, but the man did not show his face.

"I don't have time for this," Boba said to himself, then fired a grenade into the cart, exploding it in orange flames. He turned to PZ-85. "Take out as many as you can and meet me back at the _Falcon_ in five minutes."

The droid aimed past Boba and fired. Besalisk dropped a blaster pistol and fell over twenty yards away.

"Yes, Master," PZ-85 replied.


	14. DARK BOUNTY: The Carbon Freeze

Red alarm lights flashed in the carbonite freeze chamber, announcing the failure of his men in the hangar. The Keeper grimaced with his sharp yellow teeth at the thought that his plan was not going as expected. Patch had been thrown to the floor after her outburst over the transceiver and lay on her side looking up.

The tall black droid stepped forward after checking the security network. "Statement: Boba Fett has resisted capture. Your men are dead," IG-88 said in a lifeless, digital voice. He raised his rifle and focused his rotating red eye on the Keeper. "Query: Shall I disassemble him." There was no inflection in his speech.

The Keeper nodded reluctantly. He wanted Boba Fett alive for his wall, but he feared the danger of facing a living and vengeful Boba. "Yes, hic-don't let him get here alive," he said with a spoiled acquiescence.

IG-88 did not turn to exit, his head simply rotated on his narrow body and his arms and legs reversed their joints to walk in the opposite direction. He left the chamber.

The Keeper then addressed Cahil. "Secure the clone prime for the freezing-hic," he growled. "We're doing it now!"

Cahil approached Patch and bent over to raise her up by her arms. Without warning, both of Patch's feet kicked him in the face, as she propped herself up on her shoulders. Cahil fell over, being more caught off guard than injured.

Patch pushed her bonds beneath her and slipped her hands in front, then leapt up in a flash. The Keeper was on her surprisingly fast, and she found herself grappling with his thick arms as they tried to catch her. She swung up with her bound hands and boxed him in his dewlap and then tried to push him away. The Keeper was unphased and wrapped her up tightly with her arms pinned down. She struggled to move, feeling the grip squeeze down on her.

"I could-hic-crush every bone in you," the Keeper growled, his hot breath puffing on her face.

Patch grimaced and turned her face away from him as it became more difficult to breathe, her hands trying to grab for anything she could. She felt the lightsaber on the Keeper's belt; but being unsure of that weapon, she could not ignite it. She then felt the blaster; that weapon, she knew.

A shot rang out, and the Keeper hollered in pain as his grip loosened. Patch slipped out and ran for the door; but Cahil was standing there, his two black blades crossed in front of him.

The Keeper, gripping his wounded thigh, hiccoughed, "Get her, you fool!"

Patch did not think. She just fired, her finger rolling off rapid flashes of blaster shots. Cahil's blades whirled in front of him, the blaster fire deflected away. Patch had never seen anything like that. She bit her lip, fired a shot at the Keeper, and then dove behind a cart of gas canisters, scurrying on her hands and knees away from Cahil. Patch's blast almost hit the Keeper, the blaster fire buzzing him just inches from his head. The near miss flustered the Keeper, and he found his way to cover as well.

Cahil moved toward the wall of the circular room behind the secured carts and began to make his way around, knowing eventually he would find Patch. He walked quickly with his swords held out in front of him. Patch looked over the cart, and saw him coming around. She checked her pistol. Its energy cell had only enough for a few more rounds.

"You got him," she said, trying to encourage herself and stood up. Cahil turned his head as he saw her and started to run along the wall toward her. She raised the blaster and fired, hitting her target, the gas canister in front of him. A burst of gas erupted around him, hiding him for a moment in the sudden cloud. She then immediately shot off one of the canister regulators behind the canister she was hiding behind, producing a blanket of gas around her as well.

When Cahil emerged from his cloud, he saw the fog where Patch was hiding and approached, trying to squint to see into the steam. He made a few steps, but could not see her. He then took a few steps more. As he neared, the gas dissipated; and, looking behind the cart, he ominously realized that no one was there.

"Gotcha!" Patch's voice called out from behind him, followed promptly by two pistol shots and an empty click. She had finished off the pistol's rounds. Shot twice in the back, Cahil dropped to his knees and fell over. Patch smiled to herself for a moment, before hearing a slight hollow clang followed by a dead roll. She did not see it, but she knew what it was. She reacted directly as she leapt forward behind a cart. The rolling grenade burst and shook the cart she had dived behind, but the chains that secured it held firm.

The Keeper stood and limped toward the direction of the impact. "Did I get you-hic?" he taunted. Stepping out to the center of the room in front of the carbonite freeze, he searched for any evidence of Patch among the canister carts.

Patch tossed the empty and useless pistol away and moved toward the dead Zabrak. The noise as the blaster slid across the floor directed the Keeper's attention to her.

"There-hic-you are!" His mouth widened into his familiar, grotesque smile.

Patch rushed to pick up one of Cahil's black blades, but it was heavy and cumbersome for her to lift effectively.

The Keeper laughed and produced the Jedi's lightsaber from his side. Its blue blade illuminated his green face in a fiendish glow, and his icteric teeth showed bright in its light. He slashed the blade at the metallic floor, causing red-hot melted scars in the floor, as the burning metal fumes filled the room with an offensive odor.

Patch looked down at the black metal sword that she could hardly lift and realized the futility of fighting him with it. She thought quickly, and she raised the sword above her head. It tottered in her raised hands for a moment before she let it fall on the chain holding the cart to the floor. It cut through the chain with ease. The Keeper stepped closer.

She lifted the blade again and swung hard with all her weight onto the canister regulators, cutting off six of the eight regulators. White gas jetted out, and the cart shifted, then rushed forward propelled by the gas rockets.

The Keeper's black eyes widened and his wide grin dropped for a split second before the cart hit him, throwing him backward. His heavy body fell back on his head and flipped into the carbonite freeze. Patch ran quickly to the control panel. The Keeper's hand was already snapping to the pit edge and gripping it to raise himself out. Patch whipped the activation lever down, and the pit gushed with a bursting white cloud as the gas extravasated from every duct. The Keeper's hand fell from the edge, his contorted fingers disappearing in the smoke. He blurted out one last scream that was cut short by a final hiccough.


	15. DARK BOUNTY: Black Droid

Boba left PZ-85, and started down the hangar toward the far end where the main hall to where the main residence was. He knew the facility well, having worked for the Keeper many times in the past, but that was a long time ago. He strode confidently down the center of the hangar while some lingering henchmen emerged and fired random, useless shots at him. Boba handily cut them down with his rifle as if they were innocuous bilge bugs.

He had walked twenty meters when he stopped, a ship catching his eye on the right. He turned as his astonished eyes looked on from behind the helmet. Before him stood a blue Firespray-31-class attack ship, the exact model of his old ship, _Slave-1_. He reasoned that it had to simply be another ship of the same model, but the intrusive memory of _Slave-1_ exploding forced its way into his mind. Could it be the same?

He heard the whooshing sound of the door at the end of the hangar opening and tried to focus, shaking off the memory. A red blaster shot zipped centimeters past his helmet. He spun and dove behind the Firespray and checked his rifle's charges. Another blaster shot ricocheted off the neighboring Umbaran starfighter. The deflected blast struck just a half a meter from his head. That was no accident, and Boba knew it. There was only one of the Keeper's henchmen that could shoot like that.

"Eighty-eight," Boba said to himself. He could hear the droid's steps fast approaching.

Boba rushed around the back of the Firespray under its protruding stern and listened, but the droid steps were no longer around the ship. Now he could hear the footfalls on the metal hull of the ship above him. He tensed his grip on the rifle and back-stepped out from under the stern, rapidly firing at the top of the Firespray. IG-88 was there, dodging every blast with unnatural and inhuman agility. The droid leapt to the forward hull, but Boba's barrage of fire was too quick for IG-88 to return an attack. Boba darted to the front of the ship, not relenting his strafe. However, ultimately, each shot proved ineffective. IG-88 was too fast and could predict each blaster shot, his multiple ancillary eyes calculating their trajectory.

Boba turned to hug the forward hull of the neighboring ship, a Republic gunship. He fired a physical grenade from this rifle's ventral mount grenade launcher. It hit the front of the Firespray just under IG-88. The droid leapt off the ship with ease and landed upright in the center of the hangar bay. Without a moment's pause, IG-88 broke toward Boba Fett-his red eye focusing, his jointed legs pitching back and forth in a sprint, the upper torso remaining still, and a bombardment of rifle fire streaming from his weapon.

Boba zig-zagged to avoid being hit, but the intensity of the blaster storm was too much. A blast cut into the soft mesh of his upper arm, leaving a charred open wound. Boba did not wince, but he instead launched one more grenade before racing for the open door from the hangar. IG-88 easily dodged to the side of the grenade, which detonated harmlessly five meters to his right.

Boba made it through the door, promptly cut to the inside frame where the control panel was, and punched the control to shut the door. It began to shut as IG-88 sprinted to the door, his arms down now; and all energy diverted to two dorsal vents on his back, creating a burst that sped him even more quickly toward the descending door-ten meters: the door was a quarter shut. Five meters: the door was half shut. The droid lowered itself to slide under the door. Two meters: the door was almost closed.

Boba could hear the metallic thud of the droid on the other side of the door as the door's air-lock sealed. He stepped back from the control panel and fired one shot, destroying the panel as it erupted in electrical blue flames. "That oughta hold him for a while," Boba said to himself.

Red sparks then began to spray from the blast door, starting at the top and then slowly moving downward. IG-88 was cutting through the door.

"Maybe not," Boba stated before running down the hall.


	16. DARK BOUNTY: A Name

The mechanical claw of the carbonite freeze room released the quadrate cast of the Keeper just to the right of Admiral Dentin's cast. Patch, dragging the sword with one hand, approached the frozen Keeper. She looked up at the hibernating villain, her face having a vague, unreadable expression. His expression, in contrast, was evident. His eyes were clenched shut, and his mouth open in a contorted fashion with his teeth withdrawn into his gums and the edges of his lips turned down. Tortuous fingers tried to rise up to cover his face but were petrified halfway. He was fixed forever in the bronze-colored anguish of his carbon shell. The image demanded ambivalence in Patch. She wanted to smile at having been the victor, but she thought of being frozen and immovable, eventually to be nameless and forgotten-nameless like her; to be just a trophy, a clone prime and not. . . she could not remember her own real name.

"You are just a keeper," she said to him, "Out there is just a Resistance pilot, a general, an antique, and a collectible, and I am just a patch."

She bowed her head, and tried, as she had done hundreds of times before to remember her name.

"Videsse."

The name came. At first, she thought it was in her own thoughts. The word hung in her mind and stirred something deep within her. That was it, her own name; who she really was, though her mother had always called her-

"Dess," the voice said again.

The sword dropped from her hand and clanged on the immovable ground, its sharp echo reverberating through the room. Videsse turned around to see Boba Fett standing inflexible in the doorway. Without thinking she ran to him, tears beginning to fall freely. She wrapped her arms around him, her head pressing into his chest-plate. She held him fast.

"I didn't know if you were gonna come for me," she cried. "I hoped, but. . ."

Boba held his arms out awkwardly, not returning the embrace. He did not say anything for a moment. Finally, he put his hand on the back of her head and said, "Dess. . . can you shoot a pistol?"

Videsse loosened her grip on him, wiped her face, and stood back to look at the ambiguous helmet staring at her. She thought a second. "Is that your way of askin' if I'm okay?"

Boba did not answer.

Videsse smiled, learning something about Boba, and stated confidently, "Yeah, I can do that. What d'ya have for me?"

He produced his disruptor pistol and placed it in her hand.

"Nice work, by the way." Boba nodded to the carbonite-frozen Keeper, and without missing a breath said, "Now, let's go."

He turned to exit, and Videsse started to follow, checking the pistol charge and readying it for action. Boba turned to lead her back by a different path than the one he had arrived by.

"Wait," Videsse called out. "This way is faster." She pointed in the opposite direction.

"Eighty-eight's that way," Boba replied. "There's another way out." He kept moving.

Videsse stopped and said defiantly, "No."

Boba turned to look at her. "You are not going against him. That droid can dodge anything we throw at it and can shoot better, too. We profit nothing by facing him and risk a lot. Let's go."

"He killed my mother," Videsse retorted simply.

Her comment gave Boba pause, and his grip tightened on his rifle- the only evidence of Boba's struggle. Finally, he replied, "Okay, but we do this my way. Understand?"

Videsse nodded.

"Then, you need to get to the _Falcon_ ," he said.


	17. DARK BOUNTY: Bounty Hunters

The ships slept with a ghostly nature in the uninhabited hangar, dead bodies were strewn throughout. Boba and Videsse entered the silent ship storage from a side entrance behind a large Imperial shuttle. Boba held up his hand for Videsse to wait and edged his way along the starboard hull of the shuttle to the center aisle of the long hangar. The _Millennium Falcon_ rested thirty meters to his right, its ramp extended.

There was not a sound.

Boba looked to the hatchway where he had escaped from IG-88 and saw the burned hole the droid had cut through the main blast door. He motioned for Videsse to come up. She did swiftly, a finger on the trigger of the pistol, and her other hand supporting her wrist.

Boba started, "I don't see him, and it looks like he may have left, but-"

"It's a trap. I know," Videsse interrupted.

Boba just stared at her with nothing left to say about that. "Yeah. So you hug the wall, and I'll walk the center aisle. Keep visual contact with each other in between the ships, and we'll make our way to the _Falcon_."

"Got it," Videsse said. Videsse started to walk back to the hangar wall, but Boba grabbed her shoulder.

"Don't rush off," Boba said sternly. "Do you _get_ that?"

Videsse nodded. "Yes, I understand."

"Good, then let's do it."

Boba strode out into the center of the hangar, his rifle charged and ready. For a moment he stood there, studying the environment. Multiple ships were still missing, the last of the Keeper's men still patrolling for the _Vigilance_. Dead bodies lay in a semi-circle around the _Falcon_ , undisturbed. The _Falcon_ herself was dimly lit by the hazy, white, overhead lights, which were just strong enough to outcompete the blue Anthan Prime atmospheric glow that backlit the _Falcon_ through the open hangar bay _._ However, there was no IG-88 to be seen and no evidence of his pending arrival.

Boba moved his glance to Videsse, who was waiting for Boba. He nodded and they both began to walk toward the _Falcon_ , their weapons ready and their attention guarded.

Videsse moved behind another ship, and they lost visual contact with each other until they were beyond it. Boba nodded to her again upon seeing her emerge and they moved beyond the next ship; one-by-one in the same fashion. Boba watched the tops of each and the alleys on the left side of him. No sign of the droid. They passed another alley and made visual contact; then another; then another.

Their steps were thoughtful and light as they passed a V-Wing fighter. Boba never lost focus, and his rifle was always ready. The V-Wing hull receded from his vision as he advanced. Videsse would be peeking around the aft any second.

The dark, motionless, and lanky silhouette of an Assassin droid materialized in the gap between the V-Wing and the neighboring ship. Its arms were down, but ready. For a split second, it did not move as if only a statue, then its head rotated; and the bright red eye focused, not on Boba, but on Videsse. She had just stepped out from the rear of the ship. The droid raised its rifle to shoot, but Videsse had instinctively leapt back behind the ship.

Boba let loose a torrent of rifle fire, which the assassin droid deftly maneuvered as it darted back and forth. Its arms and legs reversed their joint and returned fire, blood red blasts threaded the air as they returned to Boba. He lowered his rifle and sprinted down the aisle calling out, "Dess, get to the _Falcon_!"

IG-88 then leapt into the air with the aid of its dorsal exhaust vents and surged over the neighboring ship. He fired unemotionally down on the fleeing Boba Fett, and blaster shots licked Boba's heals.

Abrupt pistol fire then flashed past the descending droid, one chance shot glancing off his shoulder. Videsse, her focused gaze directed down the barrel of her pistol, shot with deadly determination from the ramp of the _Falcon_. She bit her lip and pulsated her finger rapidly on the trigger.

IG-88 landed, not phased by the torn metal on his shoulder, raised his rifle to finish Videsse. She dodged into the _Falcon_ , and Boba rolled out more shots on the droid as he ran to the ramp himself.

Boba's made it to the ramp and rushed up, but collapsed as a rifle shot cut through the upper thigh of his leg. He fell to the deck just inside of Falcon and grabbed his left thigh, but didn't cry out.

"Shall I close the ramp, Master?" PZ-85 asked, who had returned to the _Falcon_ obediently.

"Shut up, PZ!" Boba yelled.

IG-88's fire stopped, but the droid drew near to the _Falcon_ , ready to board and finish his objective.

Videsse seated herself in the pilot seat and readied her hand over the ignition. PZ-85, realizing he was not wanted in the back, came up to join her in the cockpit. Videsse reached down to flip off the coded toggle switch, but she withdrew her hand.

"Dess," Boba called out as he struggled to get upright again. He could see IG-88's long, mechanical legs approaching as he stepped under the stern of the _Falcon_ and approached the ramp. His full body came into view, electrical sparks leaping from the torn metal of his shoulder. Boba stood, all of his weight on his right leg. The droid stepped up onto the ramp and aimed his rifle at Boba.

"Dess! Now!" Boba yelled out

Videsse punched the ignition and said, "Sorry, PZ."

The _Millennium Falcon_ leaped to life as the lights in the cockpit flashed and the engine's familiar whirr sounded. But only for a split second. Having not deactivated the toggle switch, the ion pulse generator kicked on with the ignition, sending an ionized surge through the ship, disabling anything electrical temporarily. The _Falcon_ and PZ-85 died, but so did IG-88. The electrical surge could be seen passing through the assassin droid, its body quivering in a cataplectic fit before finally its weak joints locked in position.

The lifeless mechanical body stood still on the edge of the ramp, his rifle half-raised but unmoving and his red eye now black.

Boba limped down to the droid and reached down to his belt.

"I'd like to see you dodge this," he stated with veiled amusement. He wedged an anti-armor grenade under the droid's chest plate and pushed him violently off the ramp. Then Boba turned and entered the _Falcon_ for cover.

IG-88's black metal frame fell limply to the floor, and his rifle slid away. Then, in an orange burst of flame, his dark shell erupted, spraying fragments in all directions. The _Falcon_ shook at the detonation but was unharmed.

Boba made his way to the cockpit, and Videsse switched to the co-pilot's seat. Boba collapsed into the pilot's seat and took off his helmet, letting out an emphatic exhale while leaning back. He looked over at the sleeping PZ-85.

"Ahh, we've got five quiet minutes before PZ wakes up. Then we'll start the _Falcon_ up and get out of here," Boba said, putting his hands behind his head. "Hopefully, before the other ten men come back."


	18. DARK BOUNTY: The Flight of the Falcon

The lightning storm started to thin but would not concede defeat, its blue flashes strobing through the open hangar bay. The Keeper's men began to return one-by-one. First, the A-Wing floated through the open port, followed by a Delta-6 Sprite class starfighter.

Boba and Videsse stared out of the cockpit window of the _Falcon_ at the entering ships, studying them and forming a plan. Meanwhile, PZ-85 was just recovering from the ion pulse, shaking his head. "I don't know what your headaches feel like," PZ-85 said cradling his head with both hands, "but I think I can relate."

The other two ignored him, concentrating too hard to even tell him to shut up. "There, that's the third one," Videsse said. One of the TIE fighters entered in and came to rest in its designated place.

"Yeah," Boba agreed. "We'll let them land, then take out the next two on our way out. That will divide them well enough."

"Do you think Donal took any of them out," Videsse asked.

"Ha! Donal? He'd be the only pilot in the galaxy that could manage to shoot his own foot with that ship before he hit a moving target. I'm lucky he could hit the tethered X-Wings."

Videsse giggled at that and turned to leave. "I'll get on the guns." She left the cockpit and climbed the center gun well to the dorsal gun turret.

"Get ready on the shields, PZ," Boba ordered to the protocol droid as Boba deactivated the ion pulse and punched the ignition.

PZ-85 moved to the copilot seat, his head down and sluggish. "I don't feel so good, Master."

"You'll get over it. Forward shields," Boba replied.

PZ-85 complied. Boba closed the ramp.

Another A-Wing and the Naboo fighter darkened the blue hangar bay port, slowly entering.

"Time to give this girl a little room and see what she can do," Boba yelled out.

"Let's do it!" Videsse called back.

The _Falcon_ rose steadily, its forward hull reflecting the strobing lightning. Videsse did not waste a moment and fired on the front A-Wing. Not ready for any battle, the A-Wing's shields were down, and the full impact of the laser fire ripped through its hull. The yellow Naboo fighter tried to maneuver away from Videsse's aim, but the hangar wall boxed it in. The _Falcon_ rushed for the open bay door, and Videsse swiveled the gun turret to the starboard and fired on the Naboo fighter as they passed it by. She hit its port stabilizer causing it to spin into the parked V-Wing, the resulting explosion cracking the plastocrete wall and floor, and jarring the _Falcon_ as it pitched forward violently.

Boba used the momentum by increasing the accelerator and vaulted out of the bay into the blue haze. The clouds were clearing and the visibility was now half a kilometer, but still rain hit the cockpit window as the lightning flashed and wisps of thicker clouds passed by.

The returning Eta-2 Actis-class interceptor came into sight as a patch of clouds swept out of the way. Videsse saw it and started to fire before any target lock was acquired. The laser blasts went awry and the Eta-2 sped to engage the _Falcon_. Its attack was well aimed and one laser blast deflected off the starboard shields. Boba rolled the _Falcon_ to avoid more fire, then pitched up into a spiral, trying to make the _Falcon_ a more difficult target. The _Falcon_ rose in an expanding helix high above the Eta-2. The Eta-2 inclined to follow it up and continued its relentless fire, but Boba then dove the ship down almost on top of the attacker. Their proximity was eight hundred meters and closing as he swiftly angled down on top of it. Videsse heard the blaring alarm of a target lock and fired instantly, directly hitting the fuselage of the Eta-2. The explosion spit the snub fighter into two stabilizers that fell wistfully into the blue fog and disappeared.

The three snub fighters from the hangar had now joined the fray.

"Three enemy fighters behind us," PZ-85 informed Boba. "Now four."

Another TIE fighter had joined the pursuit from above.

"Rear deflector shields," Boba ordered.

"Already done, Master," PZ-85 replied.

"I've got an idea," Boba said. "Hold on!" He pulled up hard on the controls and rose sharply up and then back over the edge of the upper disc of Spire. The cerulean fog hid the distant building pinnacles that gave the floating city its name, but Boba knew where they were. The two TIEs, being faster and the most agile, led the attacking fighters. Behind that the second A-wing followed; and last in line was the slowest of the four, the Delta-6 sprite-class starfighter.

Videsse kept the heat on the TIEs but could not make contact. "These pests are fast!" she called out.

"Just keep them busy!" Boba yelled back.

The colossal bases of the two center pinnacles materialized before them, the space between being very narrow at the bases but widening as they rose to their heights. Boba aimed for the narrow gap close to the bottom-the too narrow gap. He boosted the accelerator and rushed forward, tilting the _Falcon_ vertical.

"Master, the ship will not fit," PZ-85 called out with as much of a nervous tone his vocal emitters were capable of.

Boba ignored him and narrowed his eyes in concentration. The two TIE's closed in from behind, side-by-side with each other. The _Falcon_ , still on its side, drew nearer the gap- four hundred meters. He then pulled into a barrel roll. However, he didn't finish the complete roll but stabilized the _Falcon_ at the top where the gap was just wide enough for the _Falcon_ to pass between. He zipped through the gap just in time to barely miss the edges.

The TIEs, flustered by the move and still rushing toward the two huge buildings, both reflexively made for the same gap. They slammed into each other at such a speed that they simply crumpled and exploded.

The following A-Wing pilot was blinded for a moment by the explosion and lost his view of the gap. On regaining his bearings, the pinnacle base filled his view. He pulled up instantly, but it was too late as the A-Wing grated up the hard building surface and erupted in flames.

Lucky for the Delta-6, its slower speed allowed for it to see the chaotic mess and swing around the buildings back into the draft behind the _Falcon_. It boosted its engines, racing to catch up and firing wildly.

Boba sent the _Falcon_ into a dive like a flash, heading right for Spire's surface; then Boba made a hairpin turn just before impact. His momentum diminished, and his velocity eased as he rose, causing the Delta-6 to pass over him. He then punched the engines again and slipstreamed behind it. Videsse saw her opportunity and took it with a whoop of excitement. "Gotcha!" The Delta-6 blew up and shattered as the fuselage cracked under the barrage. The last three of the Keeper's snub fighters found the _Falcon_ and dove into battle- the B-Wing, the X-Wing, and the Aqualish's TIE interceptor.

"If you keep this up, Master, the Spire peace officers are going to tarnish that clean record you worked so hard to obtain," PZ-85 commented.

"Good point," Boba agreed.

PZ-85 leaned forward and looked at him. "Really?" He turned his upper body and angled more directly at Boba. "I am surprised to receive an agreement from-"

"Shut up, PZ," Boba interrupted and inclined the _Falcon_ abruptly. PZ-85 slammed back into his seat.

"Now that is expected," PZ-85 muttered to himself.

As he ascended, the clouds thickened, the lightning becoming more intense at the higher altitudes. The _Falcon_ dodged to port and starboard, weaving between white flashes of lightning and enemy fire like a moon moth in the night. The snub fighters followed close behind; they also darted about to avoid the dangerous electrical streaks. The B-Wing was not so fortunate as it was struck through with a prodigious bolt. Though it did not appear to be damaged, all its systems failed, and it hung weightless in the air for a second before drifting down into the blue, nebulous unknown. The Aqualish's Interceptor skirted the listless B-Wing to its port side and accelerated to join the remaining X-Wing in pursuit.

The _Falcon_ climbed steeply, and finally sprang from the top of the thunderclouds, ribbons of clinging mist trailing off its hull. Black space had shown dark in contrast to the glowing azure stratum. Boba leveled the ship out, and the X-Wing and TIE interceptor appeared behind him. The Aqualish boosted up to the _Falcon_ just behind on the port side, as the X-Wing rushed forward to press in from the starboard, causing Boba to cut to port across the interceptor's path. They were sandwiching the _Falcon_ in, but Boba knew the maneuver and how to counter. Instead of allowing the X-Wing to determine his path, he veered back to starboard passing in front of the X-Wing. Videsse swiveled her chair and focussed her fire on the Aqualish, keeping him at bay. The X-Wing, trying to stay behind the _Falcon,_ swung to port. He found himself pinched in by the interceptor and turned sharply back toward the _Falcon_. However, the _Falcon_ turned back and was now behind the X-Wing, barely.

Videsse whipped her chair forward and leaned in as she pulled hard on the trigger, the laser cannons blasting out a barrage on the X-Wing. The explosion was too close and Boba dove sharply to avoid a collision, but still the _Falcon_ lurched at the air burst. Videsse felt like her stomach surged into her chest, and if not for her straps, her whole body would have flown out of her seat.

"Yeehaw!" Videsse called out, "Now we're flyin'!" She pushed her black hair back out of her face. "One left!" She spun the laser canons to the port where the TIE interceptor was, but she could not see it.

The Aqualish had dived with the _Falcon_ , making sure to stay ventral to it and away from the dorsal gun turrets. He fired green laser blasts at the hull, hitting the shields directly.

"That was a direct hit, Master," PZ-85 informed. "Our shields are at twenty percent."

Videsse called down. "I can't hit him; he's staying beneath the ship!"

Boba tried a few lateral turns and dodges, but the Aqualish was unshakable.

Videsse, still not able to get a shot on him, unbuckled her straps, having an idea. She mounted the ladder of the gun well and started to descend.

Boba was unaware of what Videsse was attempting and tried to loop over and come down on the interceptor. He pulled up hard. The centripetal force of the loop pulled down violently on Videsse. She lost her hold on the hand grips and slid down the gun well wildly. She tried to slow herself by pinning her hands and feet to the well walls as she skidded all the way down to the ventral laser cannons. She hit her chin on the last foothold and landed not perfectly in the seat.

She spat out some blood, blew the hair away from her face again, and smiled at finding herself almost ready to fire, her knees in her face and head on the gun's control arms. The TIE interceptor came into view as Boba had completed the loop.

"Aw, this is all too easy!" she cried out as she twisted to get half-upright and gripped the trigger, firing into the TIE. The sharp laser fire darted into the dark sky and found its mark. The TIE erupted into flames before her eyes, shard fragments spraying in all directions and arcing down into the blue clouds. She wiped more of the blood away from her lip with her forearm, finally got herself seated correctly in the chair and slumped back, panting heavily. "Hey, Boba, we did it!"

PZ-85 looked at Boba as if he had not heard Videsse, "Master, it appears that we did it."

"Yeah," Boba said, looking pleased. He let go of the controls and settled into his seat, thoughtful. "We did."

* * *

 **"Clean Record?" What is PZ-85 talking about? Check out my Episode VIII Rise of the Dark Jedi. **


	19. DARK BOUNTY: The Dark Bounty

The _Millennium Falcon_ rested peacefully in the open expanse of its aerie on Geonosis, black carbon scarring marring its battle-weary hull. Next to it, sat _Blade-4_ , unsullied and bright in contrast. Deep toward the back of the open cave, scattered piles of equipment and furnishings were arranged near open hollows in the cave wall, where two figures sat back on a long low-backed bench. A gray droid rested behind them, plugged into a power generator just inside one of the hollows. The two figures rested their feet on the crates in front of them and leaned back.

Boba took a swig of Cheedoan whiskey and swished it around in his mouth. Videsse had her arms pulled back with her hands clasped behind her head.

"We should've moved everything up here a long time ago," she commented as she looked around.

Boba not having anything to say, said nothing.

"What are we gonna do now?" Videsse asked.

Boba took another gulp of the whiskey. "Find a job," was his flat answer.

"What?" Videsse asked. "I thought you were gonna retire?"

Boba removed his feet from the crate and leaned forward, staring directly into her green eyes. He pointed and said, "Tried to. You've got a way of making me broke. Even though I had a million credits. Did you think Donal was cheap? It costs a lot for a coward to find an ounce of courage."

She smiled back at him. "Well, I think you'll find I'm worth it," she laughed.

Boba didn't say anything in response but shook his head.

Videsse wouldn't let it go. "I know you want me around."

Boba put his feet up and took another sip of his whiskey.

Videsse reached into her chest pocket and pulled out a white data chip and dangled it from her fingers. "You're pride just won't let you admit you want me around."

Boba looked over at the chip. "What's that supposed to be?"

She tossed it to him. "Something to help your conscience."

He caught it and flipped it between his fingers. "Yeah?"

"Just check the history on that. You'll see that it _had_ thirty million credits on it," she said confidently. "Where it is now, well . . ."

Boba straightened back up at the implication.

"Yeah, this little mechanic is suddenly worth a fortune," Videsse gloated.

Boba chuckled to himself. "You _are_ like you mother!"

"Is _that_ who I remind you of?" she countered.

Boba shook his head and looked at Videsse with a hint of admiration. "Well, if you think I'm going to say this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership, you're deluded." He went to take another swig from his glass bottle but found it ripped from his hands.

Videsse threw back a big gulp and wiped her mouth with her forearm "I wouldn't expect anything else."

Boba grabbed the bottle back from her and commented with a smile, "Well, you are good at fixing stuff, Dess."

This time, Videsse knew what he meant and smiled back. "I need you, too."

The two of them kicked their feet back up on the crates and settled into the bench, not saying another word, but gazing with satisfaction at a large quadrate object leaning on the cave wall in front of them- a carbonite cast. The Keeper hung frozen, gripped in infinite stillness, and in his upturned bronze hands rested the black and unlit head of IG-88.


	20. DARK BOUNTY: Epilogue

**For readers that enjoy reading the first and last chapters of a story in order to evaluate if it's worth the effort: Know that my epilogues are akin to "extra-credit scenes" and without reading the novella, the epilogues will not make much sense, as they set up sequels.**

 **Another comment about First and Last chapter reading: That will work very well in fanfiction stories that wander without purpose. This is not that kind of story. It is a methodical narrative with a definite three act format. I try to avoid wasted narratives and hence I strive to eliminate fluff chapters.**

* * *

The clouds on Anthan Prime had passed, and the star-filled sky finally appeared. The Keeper's hangar bay was empty; and, apart from small, smoldering fires left over from the burning debris, the stygian expanse was devoid of any life. The heated metal from the fires had cooled, and the warping moans of the walls and floors had long since ceased. The Keeper's old residence was dead.

A gleam reflected off a small, approaching starfighter just before it passed into the shadow of the hangar. The silent ship hovered eerily over inert bodies and carnage, a bright spotlight beaming to life from the forward hull. It drew close to the blast doors at the rear and descended softly to set down; its stabilizers folding up to facilitate the landing.

Once settled, the ramp lowered, and a masked intruder stepped swiftly down. Her steps were light and soundless, but quick. Over her head, she wore a helmet with large visual lenses, a horizontal toxin filter, and an antenna that rose from the back. In her hand was a small pistol, raised and ready. She wore lean, plated armor that was lightweight and nimble. The intruder pressed the temple of her helmet with her gauntleted finger and two flood lights glared from both sides above her lenses. She stepped forward to the burned hole in the blast door and darted her head around making sure no one was there to see. When satisfied that she was unobserved, she stepped through and into the hallway.

Then with agile strides, as if she knew the layout well, she headed directly for the Keeper's study. The door was shut, but the intruder holstered her pistol, and within seconds had dismantled the control panel. After twisting and splicing a few wires the door opened a few inches with a gasp. She pried the door open the rest of the way and slipped through.

As she entered, the lights did not turn on as they had done before. The electrical systems were evidently down after the previous battle. The intruder made her way to the carbonite casts that hung on the wall and studied each one until she found the cast she was looking for and promptly removed her gloves. The olive-colored skin of her left hand was decorated with a tattoo of a red starburst that shown bright in the beams of her flood lights. She punched a few commands into the control screen of the carbonite cast, stepped back, and then raised her hand to deactivate her head lamps. For a moment she stood alone in the cimmerian pitch darkness.

Then the light began to pierce out of the carbonite as it evaporated from the body of its hibernating captive. The silver glow grew brighter and brighter until the whole room was illuminated with blinding light. The intruder covered her visual lenses and looked away as the captive released from the cast and fell to the ground. The light then died out, leaving the now two individuals blanketed in the thick darkness.

The woman intruder's voice broke the silence. "After twenty years, I don't envy the hibernation sickness you're going to have."

* * *

 **As always thanks for reading. Your Favorites/Follows/Reviews are really appreciated.**

 **If you have questions about my incarnation of Boba Fett, please visit riseofthedarkjedi on facebook. There is a link to the novella with author notes at the end where I answer questions like: Did I neuter Boba Fett? I think you might like the answer.**


	21. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Opening Crawl

**This is a spin-off of my other fanfiction: Episode VIII Rise of the Dark Jedi & Episode IX The Legacy of the Sith. For more information on how the First Order was defeated and how Boba Fett profited from the war, please read that novel.**

 **Thanks again to SaphireAlena for her beta-editing. Be sure to check out her fanfictions.**

 **Below is the opening crawl to The Final Bounty.**

* * *

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away . . . .

STAR

WARS

THE FINAL BOUNTY

Two years have passed since the death of The Keeper. Boba Fett has since disappeared without anyone knowing of his involvement.

With no one left to tell the tale of The Keeper's demise, rumors have surfaced that someone else was responsible, a bounty hunter known only as RED SUN.

In a short time, her reputation has grown; and although the Republic is tightening its control over criminal activity in the galaxy, there is still plenty of work for a bounty hunter. Especially for one that is not fussy about who is hiring . . .


	22. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Megalox Beta

_The titanic beige planet of Megalox Beta hung solitary in the black void of space. It was a planet used for one purpose, to house criminals. Megalox, a maximum security prison, rested close to the equator and was protected by a grav-field dome. The immensity of the planet created such a gravitational pull, that any that walked outside of the grav-field would be crushed by their own weight; and therefore, it was a perfect deterrent for fleeing criminals._

 _However, today, one small ship escaped the gravity, a Firespray-31-class attack craft, Slave-1. It rose from the giant surface into the dark expanse, like a burning ember from a fire. A green Rodian piloted the ship as he laid hard into the accelerator to reach exit velocity. Slave-1 struggled to climb its way out of the gravitational field but it was a ship that knew how to overcome the impossible. Its engines roared and its frame shook. The Rodian began to sweat and tried to lean forward against the considerable gravity; even with the ship's gravity modifier, the force was overwhelming. He almost passed out from the G-force making it difficult to breathe._

 _Slowly, the gravity lessened, the shaking abated, the engines cooled, and the Rodian breathed. Slave-1 had escaped Megalox Beta, but its previous owner was still grounded._

 _The Rodian switched on the holonet. "Terrah?"_

 _A minute passed before a response. "Cheedo, you out?"_

 _"Yeah, everything's as cool as Camoor," Cheedo replied._

 _"Great, thanks for your help. Slave-1 is yours now; if you can manage to keep it," the woman replied._

 _Cheedo laughed, "Where's your confidence in me, Terrah?"_

 _"Just make sure you strip it of Boba's mods, I don't want anyone recognizing it after you lose it, 'cause you will. You understand."_

 _"Yeah, I got it. Nice doing business with you for once," Cheedo replied._

 _"Just get out of here and don't send another transmission."_

 _Two passed out and crooked prisoners lay slumped over two, even more crooked, prison guards. Behind them a grotesque Hutt lay snoring, his mouth open and drool stringing from his mouth to his shoulder. Terrah stood before them, placing the stolen head of General Grievous into a sack and throwing it over her back. She wore silver chest armor with a red star burst painted on it. Her gleaming green eyes scanned the room for anything else she might swipe for profit, and she found something. She stepped over to the Hutt and leaned down. She pushed her jet black hair back from her olive-skinned face and bound it behind her in a ponytail. Her fingers then found a canvas pouch under the Hutt's arm. She reached in and pulled out a black pyramidal structure, a Holocron._

 _"Nice doing business with you, Grakkus," Terrah said. "I hope the Thanatizine gives you a glorious headache when you wake up." She smiled and placed the Holocron in her pack and left the room._

 _Terrah ran down a long gray corridor. This was a trap and she knew it. The Keeper, a rich collector on Anthan Prime had hired Terrah Otlell and Boba Fett to obtain Grievous' head this time. He had hired them many times over the previous twenty years but lately, he was becoming more suspicious of the two bounty hunters. They had refused to be hired solely by the Keeper, and he had taken offense to that. Then Cheedo had accidentally stumbled upon the Keeper's plan to eliminate Terrah and Boba on Megalox Beta. It was information that the Rhodian had used to make a deal for Slave-1._

 _The realization that Terrah suddenly had a bounty on her own head caused her to question the choices she had made in life. Her daughter, a clone of herself, was six years old; and now, with the threat of death hanging over Terrah, she wondered if she had made a mistake. Certainly, she had been in danger before but she had never been hunted. She knew when the Keeper wanted something, he was sure to get it. Terrah wanted to free herself from the trap—the trap of the Keeper, the trap of her daughter, and the trap of . . . she did not want to admit what she felt about Boba. She wanted to escape. She felt that she needed to escape. Terrah had cursed herself for being so short-sighted and now was her chance to rectify it and to start over. She thought how Boba was going to hate her when her droid PZ-85 shows up with her daughter, Videsse._

 _Terrah shook the thought from her mind as she ran down the corridor to the exit. Men lay randomly hunched on the smooth floor, some dead, some drugged, and some knocked unconscious. A voice came from behind her; it was Boba Fett._

 _"Red! Did you get the artifact?" he called out._

 _She did not stop her stride but called out, "Got it. No one's following us. You must have taken care of the prison guards."_

 _"Yeah," Boba replied as if it was too obvious._

 _Boba had been thought to be dead after the Pit of Carkoon twenty-five years earlier and now he lived and worked under an alias. It was a ruse Terrah was about to imitate._

 _Boba and Terrah ran to the end of the hall where a door to the landing platform stood resolutely closed._

 _"I'll get it," Terrah said and started removing the control panel. Her fingers worked quickly with the small tools and electrical cords, as she snapped a few sparks between frayed wires. This was it. Her fingers shook, but Boba did not see. One more wire contact and the doors would open. She held the wires apart for a second and thought of the life she was leaving behind._

 _Boba stood sentinel, guarding the corridor with his carbine rifle; the grenade launcher attached ventral to the rifle barrel was armed with physical charges._

 _Terrah closed her eyes and brought the wires together. The small spark arced between the wires. She thought how minuscule the spark was, but what a massive effect it had; it was the end of a life. The door opened with a hiss, and a gush of foul air rushed in blowing Terrah's black hair that had fallen from her ponytail. Before them was the landing pad, and on it rested a Firespray-31-class attack ship. It was not Boba's old ship, but another model that Cheedo had left in its place. Terrah let out a melancholy exhale when she saw the imposter._

 _The gray wind blew across its hull as the low fog was swept over it with the gusts._

 _"This seems a little too easy," Boba noted._

 _Before he could say another word, Terrah's lips were on his. She had not planned on kissing him this time, but Boba had a way of doing that to her. She kissed him passionately and wrapped her arms around him. This was the last time, and she knew it. If only she could live in this moment forever, and for a second she convinced herself that she could. She refused to let a tear fall, knowing there will be time for that later._

 _She withdrew and stared into his dark eyes, as her hands found their way seductively to his chest plate._

 _"I'm sorry, Honey." She forced the word out from deep within and suddenly pushed him. He took a step back as she swiftly hopped outside the door and pushed the outside control panel._

 _The door flashed shut in front of her. She put her gloved hand on the dead steel of the door. It was over._

 _Terrah turned and ran toward the Firespray, its ramp was descended and waiting for her. She lifted a thin fine-meshed hood over her head pulled it down over her face as she ran up the ramp. Then she activated a cloaking device from her wrist controls. Her image disappeared instantly. She turned and exited the craft and looked around inquisitively._

 _"Where are you?" she whispered to herself. She scanned the roof of the prison building that she had exited. A silhouette of a black droid darkened the gray sky-the Keeper's assassin._

 _"There you are."_

 _Terrah activated a remote launch code on her wrist console and the Firespray started to lift off._

 _At that moment, the door opened again with the familiar hiss, and Boba rushed to the ascending Firespray, just having taken off. He sprinted as fast as he could and held up his gauntlet, still fitted with a fibrocord. He fired it with precision as the barbed dart made contact with the port stabilizer and stuck fast._

 _Terrah did not watch as Boba lifted off the ground, trying to catch what he thought was her. Instead, she ran to the edge of the building. There was a ladder, but it was twenty feet above her. She bent down and activated her boot rockets. The rockets were not adequate for maintained flight but were useful to boost her jumps. Terrah's boots erupted in a flash of light, but being so close to the wall, the black droid could not see it. She vaulted more than enough to grab the ladder and began to climb._

 _The Firespray port stabilizer exploded and Boba was thrown back to the landing pad. The wave of heat and wind pushed Terrah into the wall but she continued to climb. Once on the roof, she got a close look at the black droid, IG-88. He was crouched and aiming a rifle at the fallen Boba Fett._

 _The Firespray began to spin with only the one stabilizer before the starboard engine stabilizer exploded as well. The ship then seemed to float in the air for an eternity before it was swallowed up in flames._

 _IG-88 did not fire. Electrical arcs and sparks traced every circuit of his form. He crouched motionless and his red eyes became dark and lifeless. A discharged ion grenade lay underneath him. The explosion of the Firespray was a sufficient distraction for the invisible Terrah to roll the ion grenade toward the droid. She walked over and kicked him down._

 _"Can't have you killing Boba. I would kill you if I could, but someone has to report that I'm dead," she said resolutely. "However, I got to thank you since I'll be using your ship to get off this miserable planet."_

 _She looked down from the building as the ship seemed to wilt in gray smoke, the foul breeze of Megalox-Beta sweeping the black smoke to the west, and a lonely man watching it burn._

 _"It'll be better this way," she tried to convince herself._


	23. THE FINAL BOUNTY: The Bounty

Even seven years later, Terrah was haunted by the intrusive memories of that day on Megalox Beta. She was fifty-three standard years old now, and life continued as it had always done. She collected bounties, she spent them, and she looked for more. It was a pattern she was used to, a race that continued on until an inevitable end.

Terrah leaned back in the pilot seat of her attack craft, as the pale blue light of hyperspace dimly lit the cockpit, the cockpit of _Slave-1_. Cheedo had lost the ship just as Terrah had predicted; and while on a bounty hunt, she happened to see it in the Keeper's hanger. The temptation was too much. Seeing another opportunity present itself, she took advantage of it, and thus she was now the owner of the famous Firespray attack craft. Its name was changed and new modifications added, however. She had painted the ship bright red and fitted it with a droid brain.

"Get your helmet on, Red," a familiar voice spoke from the ship.

"You're wasting your breath. As if I was going to forget that, _Raider_ ," Terrah replied.

The blue hyperspace evaporated as the ship exited hyperspace and the temperate planet of Lothal solidified in the viewscreen.

"I don't waste my breath," _Raider_ replied

Terrah donned her helmet, a scarred and dented crimson helmet that matched her armor. It had large, black, eye shields and a slit mouthpiece fitted with a toxin filter. The rest of the helmet was unaccented except for a caudal ten-centimeter antenna.

"That's up for debate, as far as I'm concerned, _Raider,_ " she said with a smile behind her helmet.

"As if you don't talk too much, Red," _Raider_ replied; and without warning the droid brain took the ship down sharply toward the surface of Lothal.

Terrah settled back in her chair and crossed her arms as _Raider_ sank into the atmosphere. "I will take the controls when we're close to the surface," she said resolutely.

"I'd like to see you try," _Raider_ replied. The droid ship was all talk.

The planet Lothal was a diverse ecosystem consisting of temperate forests, savannahs, and prairies. Terrah, her hands now on the controls, took _Raider_ away from any towns and flew into the equatorial savannah wastelands. Sporadic and towering rock projections reached up from the scrublands and ornamented the otherwise flat terrain. A holographic display at the right of the control console glowed with coordinates.

It was not long before a grouping of rock towers appeared in the distance, widening and rising further into the sky as Terrah approached. A small landing pad was nestled in between the elliptical formation of rock spurs. Terrah flew above and settled _Raider_ down for a landing. The drab rock faces passed as she descended to the pad and smoke from her ventral engines filled the mountain bowl. She powered down the engines and lowered the ramp.

Two ground buzzer blaster cannons emerged from the starboard and port hulls.

"You covering me?" Terrah asked as she stepped down the ramp. "Must think this is a trap."

"Red, it's always a trap," the ship replied.

Terrah nodded but did not reply, caught up in another memory of someone that line was familiar to. She walked to one of the rock spire faces and stood still in front of it. Raising her transceiver, she spoke. "Seti, I'm here."

There was no response on the transceiver. The wind blew causing some of the silty earth to spin momentarily in the rock bowl. The call of a distant flying Loth-Hawk could be heard in the distance. Still, Terrah waited. The wall in front of her suddenly trembled, gravel and dust falling from hidden seams in the rock. The hidden door retreated into the mountain a meter and then rotated to open a narrow passage, just wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side. Terrah entered without fear into the heart of the spire. The door then shifted and closed behind her with an echoing crack. For a moment she was left in the darkness until a channel of natural light materialized from above.

A figure emerged from the darkness into the cylinder of light. He wore a simple, brown, hooded robe, bound with a leather strap at the waist. No weapon was visible, but the robe could easily conceal one. The man's face was hidden behind an onyx plate, smooth and featureless.

"Seti Gabril," Terrah began.

"Red Sun," the man replied and clasped his hands behind his back. "I was hoping you would respond to my offer."

"Well, three hundred thousand credits is a good incentive," Terrah replied.

"Since you released The Keeper's prisoners for me two years ago, I was hoping that you would be willing to find one more," Seti stated. The prisoners he referred to were a human man named Kanan Jarrus and a Twi'lek woman named Hera Syndulla. Terrah had successfully awakened the two prisoners from a twenty-year sleep in carbonite, and with it, she had obtained credit for destroying The Keeper and his entire operation. The killing of The Keeper and his men was not her work, but she was unwilling to clear up that misinformation.

"Tell me who, and I'll tell you if I will do it," Terrah replied.

Seti Gabril held out a hand-held holo-display. The blue-gray light showed a rotating astromech droid with an angular head with retractable grasping arms. Its arms and motorized treads were mismatched and showed visible wear to its surfacing.

"A C1 droid?" Terrah questioned. "And not even a good quality antique. What value is there in that thing?"

"Value is a concept difficult to define," Seti replied.

Terrah huffed at the thought. "If it's worth three hundred thousand to you, it may be worth three hundred thousand to me," Terrah said. "But tell me where it is. I imagine the bounty is more about the difficulty than the value."

"Aux Shupli, the First Order sympathizer from Anthan Prime had him last," Seti informed her.

"That bladderweasel. I've had a run in with him before. Can't say it won't be fun swiping some droid off him."

"He's dead," Seti responded as a matter-of-fact.

"And now the droid is . . .?" Terrah inquired as if Seti was not going to inform her.

"I don't know," he said. "That's what I'm hiring you for. Pirates hijacked his space yacht outside Anthan Prime three months ago. They stripped the yacht of everything; everything except his burnt body, that is."

"Pirates," Terrah said to herself then thought a moment. "There would be three possibilities in the Outer Rim territories."

"Who?" Seti asked and folded his arms in front of him.

"You don't need to know that. You just need to know that I'll take the job," Terrah replied.

Seti's shoulders tensed a moment then he nodded. "If the droid is inoperable, there is no bounty."

"I understand," Terrah said. She stepped back out of the light into the darkness and turned around. "Pleasure, as always."

Seti muttered something under his breath. Terrah could only hear a word or two but it sounded like a form of benediction. That made her more uncomfortable than anything else.

"Are you going to let me out?"

The rock slab shifted inward and rotated to let in the gray light from outside. She walked out through the ray of light as Seti slipped back into the shadow.


	24. THE FINAL BOUNTY: The Pirate

Spire, the luxurious city of Anthan Prime, floated amidst the blue swelling clouds of the gas planet's atmosphere. It seemed to skip off the top of the slowly undulating mist like a stone on heavy waves. The floating city was a respite for the wealthiest people in the galaxy and home for the even wealthier.

Terrah's red Firespray materialized suddenly from the void of hyperspace and then approached Spire. However, it did not fly to the top disc, where the resort community frequented. Rather, Terrah flew _Raider_ to the underside of the great disc, where many armed structures stretched down into the clouds like the tentacles of a Hydroid Medusa. These were the boroughs of the servant class of Spire; but more than that, it was the borough of the pirate guild as well. Wherever the greedy wealthy frequent, the greedy poor follow; and so in the shadow of the luxurious resort hid the guilds and factions of those that would steal from those above.

The boroughs were cramped living quarters stacked on top of each other around the circumference of the each tentacle structure and were accessed only by narrow double lifts that almost never rested. Shopkeepers ran their small businesses out of their own living quarters. Occasionally, some of the quarters would have a narrow metal-wired deck if it did not interfere with the lifts. These were generally owned by the more powerful of the underclasses, like the heads of the guilds.

Cotrel, the Chagrian pirate, was one of those that resided in a porched suite. His place of business was situated at the top of one of the tentacles, and he controlled the entire level. One lift was allowed to rise to that level and the narrow porch circled the full circumference of the interior. All the doors were welded shut, except for one, and that was guarded by two sharp-toothed male Twi'leks. Inside, the walls of the neighboring quarters had been cut to make doors and connect the circle of rooms. In the furthest room from the door, the blue-faced, black-horned Chagrian sat at a table. His hands were folded onto each other and his chin rested between his draping head tentacles that sprawled on his shoulders. He stared at a small Sullustan. Two of Cotrel's guards stood by his side, a red-eyed Duros on his left and a shark-like Karkaradon on his right.

"I am sorry, that you have suffered, Pug," Cotrel spoke with silver-tongued subtlety.

The wrinkled Sullustan was angry but fearful. He gripped the desk as if he was going to stand, but he restrained himself. "You are sorry?" Pug asked rhetorically but then softened his voice. "Some might think it was your men that wrecked my shop."

The Chagrian wore the mask of shock. "My men?" He looked at the Duros and Karkaradon to each side. They nodded to their boss as if they knew nothing of what Pug was talking about. "Certainly not. Unless my men are liars. You would not be accusing them of that. I know you wouldn't be. That would be absurd." Cotrel let out a low chuckle as fake as the fool's Mythra. "However, I can help you."

Pug swatted at a midge on his neck.

Cotrell continued. "This may have been avoided if you had paid for our protection earlier."

"Protection?" Pug asked. "Is that what you call it?" He slapped at another midge.

The Duros swatted at one of the biting insects as well.

The Karkarodon started waving away the insects. "There has to be a nest for these things somewhere, Boss," he replied.

"They aren't biting me, just deal with it," Cotrell snapped.

The Karkaradon slapped and killed one on the back of his neck.

"And stop the swatting, we've got business here, " Cotrell said bluntly. He looked to re-engage the Sullustan, but Pug's eyes were dilated and blank.

"Pug?" Cotrell asked. The Sullustan's head wobbled then he fell forward, hitting his face on the table.

"Boss," the Karkarodon said.

"Yeah, this one here's high as a Loth-Hawk. Get him out of here," Cotrel ordered.

"Uh, Boss," the Karkarodon said again.

"What!"

Cotrel's lackey held out his hand for the Devaronian to look at. In his gray scaly hand, there was a midge. Cotrel leaned in and squinted his eyes. It was not an insect, but a small droid with a needled abdomen, miniature droid legs, and wings. Cotrel's eyes opened wide at the realization but before he could bark out any orders, the Duros and Karkarodon dropped hard to the ground with a couple of thuds.

Cotrel stood to his feet to get out of the room, but Terrah's red form stood in the doorway. The remaining midge droids flew back to her and inserted into a small compartment on her left forearm armor. Behind her, Cotrel could see other fallen men of his.

Terrah held a DX-2 disruptor pistol pointed at his chest.

"Sit down, Cotrel," Terrah ordered.

The Chagrian slowly lowered himself to his chair. "So, you've come here to kill off the guild, Red Sun."

Terrah kept the pistol focused and steady. "No. Everyone's having a nap. I'm not here to kill anyone." Her face was hidden behind the vague helmet, making it impossible for Cotrel to read her, but he could read the point of a pistol well enough. "You're a good client, and killing you wouldn't be good business. But I will reconsider if your hands don't stay on the table." She pulled out her second pistol and aimed it as well.

Cotrel, who was slowly lowering his hands under the table, quickly placed them back on top.

"Then what are you here for?" Cotrel questioned.

"Information," Terrah said, and put one of her pistols back in her right hip holster. She removed a chip from her belt and threw it on the table. "Five thousand. No hard feelings about your crew."

Cotrel's yellow teeth showed with his smile. A few teeth were missing and replaced with sharpened bone fragments. "You do know how to keep your clients happy, don't you? What do you want to know?" He fondled a jeweled piercing on his horned tentacle.

"Three months ago, who was patrolling this sector?"

"Ah, you want me to give up my members? That I can't do . . . Not for free anyway."

"I need to know who he was and where he's patrolling now?" Terrah said. "How much?"

"If you were anyone else, I'd suspect you were going to the Third Republic to snitch, but not Red Sun. I'll consider giving you the information . . . for a price of course, cause you're one of my favorites," Cotrel said with careful forethought and a mocking smile. "In fact, I'll give you a deal on it. But just for you. Twenty thousand."  
"Deal." Four more credit chips were thrown on the table.

Cotrel's blue eyebrows raised. "Huh, must be some bounty you're after. I'll have to ask for more next time."

"Who and where?" Terrah asked as she leaned over the table.

"Lucky for you this pirate has been a problem for me, lately. He's been overstepping his bounds within the guild and could use a little humility," Cotrel laughed to himself. "It's Sleenwai, and he's in Wild Space, now. He generally raids, then regroups in Wild Space. You know, preparing to dump his plunder on the black market in a month or so."

The answer satisfied Terrah and having obtained what she came for, nodded her head and stepped back toward the door. "Pleasure doing business with you, as always." She offered a slight bow and holstered her weapon. "Hope your negotiations with the Sullistan go well. Everyone will be up in a few minutes."

"Sun," Cotrell called out before she stepped out the door. "What are you after?"

"Work," was all she replied as she slipped out.


	25. THE FINAL BOUNTY: The Blood Krayt

Wild Space was what they called it; a wide expanse of uncharted systems outside all of the trade routes. It was the last frontier of the galaxy; and though many explorers sought to master it, most were lost. Reports would come back of brave explorers that would fly so far that they had no fuel reserves for the return trip. Other reports divulged that they had found paradise and did not want to return. Still other reports recounted that savages killed and ate any that would venture into their territory. Many other rumors circulated as well, none of which prevented glory seekers from throwing their ships, their crews, and their lives into the void, hoping they would be the first to discover something—anything that would turn a profit, a head, or a soul.

There were only four known systems that resided in the Wild Space. They were last resorts for anyone that absconded the known universe. One system was the Teth system, which was loosely governed by the Hutt clan who had desperately tried to populate its perilous jungle planet with many failed attempts. One could survive on Teth for a few weeks, before the jungle consumed them; literally, something in the jungle consumed them.

A black, quadrate ship orbited the jungle planet. It hung over its atmosphere like a brick, awkward and unnaturally motionless. Its size was at least ninety meters in length and at least fifty meters in width. It was a large ship, suitable for a crew of fifty and able to haul over seven thousand cubic meters of cargo. It was the pirate Sleenwai's ship, the _Blood Krayt_ ; and although it appeared bulky, it was an unusually maneuverable ship in space with its dual Gemon-8 ion engines and Class 1 hyperdrive. Moreover, it normally housed a half dozen snub fighters to incapacitate ships prior to boarding and plundering. For a pirating avocation, it was aptly suited. However, at the moment it slept, cradled by the orbit of Teth.

It seemed not to notice Terrah's ship exit hyperspace to its starboard, because Terrah was quick to hit the cloaking device. _Raider_ disappeared before the black starlit expanse. It had taken Terrah a few weeks to decipher the location of the _Blood Krayt_. If Sleenwai had not been careless to leave an overly talkative shipmate stranded on Indoumodo, Terrah might never had found him.

"What's the scan say, _Raider_?" Terrah asked.

"Weapon systems are not activated," the ship replied. "Lifeforms. Eight, maybe ten."

"Which is it, eight or ten," Terrah responded.

"It's a big ship, Red," _Raider_ answered. "The scans are fuzzy. Assume ten."

"A skeleton crew like the guy on Indoumodo said," Terrah said in a low tone. "Sleenwai's here unloading inventory for a few days. Usually, he has at least forty crewmen for raids. Lucky for us."

She flew in closer to the open bay on the starboard side. Looking in, she saw no one. Only three ships resided in the loading bay; blue Mandalorian Kom'rk starship, a dilapidated E-Wing, the cousin to the X-Wing with only one set of stabilizers, and a new model Corellian light freighter with a central cockpit and two large engine mandibles.

"I'd say that's not a full deck of snub fighters. _Raider_ , check for incoming and outgoing transmissions," Terrah ordered.

"None, everything's silent," the ship said. "Nothing surface side or from the ship."

"The lifeforms. Are any in the command bridge?"

"No, no one's there."

"Well, no one flying the thing. Let's get a closer look," Terrah stated as she put on her helmet. "Take us in, _Raider._ " Terrah started to prep munitions, test her helmet lamp, and activate her wrist display.

The cloaked _Raider_ slowly passed through the dock shield, its invisible body emanating vapor lines in the air. "I don't have a good feeling about this, Red."

Terrah did not reply.

 _Raider_ set down just inside the dock shield beside the Kom'rk starship and dropped the cloak. Terrah lowered the ramp and stepped down. The bay was eerily silent; no engine hum, no vent exhaust, no footfalls, just devoid emptiness. The overhead lights were on, flickering as if they would expire at any moment.

Terrah walked to the unmanned landing bay console and began to maneuver through the ship records. She needed to check the storage inventory, there being no need for her to investigate if Sleenwai had already unloaded the ship. The console glowed blue with data of incoming and outgoing storage. Only a few crates were removed from the storage bay within the last forty-eight hours. Otherwise, the storage bay was full.

Terrah tried to pull up an inventory list, but there was no use. Only Sleenwai had access to that information.

"Got to give it to him: more organized than most pirates, but just as cautious," Terrah said to herself. She knew that finding one droid in the cargo hold could be an insurmountable task, and she considered it precarious to remain on this ship for a long period of time. She realized the only way to get the cargo records would be to hack into the system as Sleenwai, and the best place for that was on the command bridge.

She loaded the schematics of the ship into her wrist display. The ship had three levels, and the command bridge was on the middle level, one level up near the prow. Two elevator transports were by the forward and aft doors of the landing bay. Another smaller elevator lift was in the rear of the ship by the upper and lower engine rooms.

"A slight detour, _Raider_ ," she spoke to her console in a whisper. "Heading to the command bridge. Guard yourself."

"Always do, Red" it replied. "And I'd shoot anything that moves, if I were you."

"Yeah, you might be right." She reached down to her wrist and activated her personal cloak. Terrah's red figure vanished from view in the flickering strobe of the dying bay lights.


	26. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Just More Competition

The transport lift was just outside the landing bay, and in good working order. Compared to the landing bay it was surprisingly well lit with an unwavering blue light. The doors opened on arriving to the middle level; and to Terrah's chagrin, she was met with more dull flickering lights in the hallway.

"This place needs some electrical work," she said low to herself. She never was comfortable with silence. She thought about how Boba used to hate her constant chattering.

The hall split into two directions then turned to run parallel with each other toward the prow. Either way would lead to the command bridge. Having to make a decision, Terrah chose to try the right side. The drab corridor seemed musty and poorly cared for. She quietly walked passed doors which led to maintenance rooms and engineer quarters. The metal grates beneath her were difficult to manage silently, as each shifted with every movement. They were not sealed, as underneath them, the plumbing, vent, and electrical vessels traversed the entirety of the ship.

Terrah turned to the left at the end of the hall and was now heading directly to the forward command bridge. However, she was stopped in her tracks. Halfway down the corridor, a blast door was sealed in front of her. That would not stop her ordinarily, but at the control panel to the right of the heavily armored door was a figure working diligently with the controls. Terrah stood perfectly still and silent, knowing that she was hidden with the cloaking device.

From the back, Terrah instantly recognized the figure had a Z-6 jetpack and that whoever it was, was clad in feminine Mandalorian armor, pristinely silver in its appearance. The figure stood just about ten centimeters shorter than Terrah, though that was hard to determine perfectly from twelve meters away. Terrah decided to carefully get a closer look. She pulled out her right disruptor pistol and carefully stepped forward, trying to step perfectly centered on the floor grates to avoid any errant sounds as they wobbled.

The figure worked, unphased as Terrah approached to within eight meters. Then Terrah saw it in the flickering lights—the red starburst on the figure's left shoulder armor, Terrah's red starburst. That was the symbol Terrah had used as her call sign before she had faked her death. It was also the symbol associated with her clones; she, having made a deal with the Kaminoans before the Second Galactic Civil War. She had been one of the Kaminoan's clone primes in exchange for a healthy credit payout, and one unaltered clone child for herself, Videsse. Videsse would be thirteen years old by now. Terrah did not want to remember that clone. She wanted to believe that Videsse was just like the rest of the clones. Taking her on was a decision she had made and later regretted. To ease her conscience, Terrah told herself that, like herself and the rest of the Terrah clones in the galaxy, Videsse would find her own way. So here was a clone—probably just a leftover from the War—but Terrah could not argue away the height. All Kaminoan clones were commissioned at full maturity, and this one was shorter. Terrah was drawn closer and took another step. The grate shifted a miniscule degree.

The female figure raised her head from her work and cocked her head to augment her hearing. There was a brief moment where neither took a breath and neither moved. The figure then bent down on one knee and opened the ventral compartment to the panel, pulling out some wires and splicing them before the door lifted fitfully in spasms.

"A cloaking device, huh?" the figure commented out loud. It was the voice of a girl, not a woman.

Suddenly the girl disappeared in a burst of grey smoke. "Gabril's bounty is mine. You hear? You ain't getting it," the girl called out.

The grey cloud lit with fiery red blaster fire from within. The determined blasts were surprisingly accurate, as they whizzed past Terrah's invisible form. Terrah dove to the side for cover, but one blast had clipped her back armor. Although, it did not injure her, it did short out her cloak. With pulsating scintillations the invisibility quickly expired.

Terrah regrouped instantly and held her pistol ready to fire at the door, as if her fingers would have been able to squeeze the trigger. The door was already closed, the girl having jumped through behind the veil of smoke and sealed it.

Terrah shook her head. "It's just a clone. It can't be her," she said to herself. "Just more competition for a bounty."


	27. THE FINAL BOUNTY: The Trap

Sealed doors were never a true obstacle for Terrah; and with a little effort, she undid the work that the girl bounty hunter had accomplished. The door opened three-quarters of the way in a cataleptic fit before it moaned to a stop. Again, Terrah muttered to herself about the condition of this ship. She hunched over and passed through the doorway.

Of course, the bridge door was closed as well; and with even less effort, Terrah unlocked the controls. She removed a sonic charge from her belt and readied her pistol. As the door opened, she tossed in the sonic charge without looking and backed around the frame for cover.

"Sod it!" the girl's voice exclaimed from inside. However the spherical sonic charge did not detonate. Instead, Terrah heard the clanking metal bounce off the bridge door and roll in front of her.

Now Terrah swore, "In the name of . . ." She dove for the door as the sonic charge detonated behind her. The impact wave rattled her and threw her to the ground without knocking her out. Terrah rolled on her side onto the bridge and tried to shake off the headache she knew was coming.

"You've got to be kidding me!" the girl heaved with disappointment. "You!" The girl raised her left hand into the air as if this was utterly ridiculous. "Of course!"

Terrah raised her head to look down the muzzle of a disruptor pistol and angled herself up onto one arm. "Yeah," she replied. Terrah noticed the blue hologram of the inventory logs displayed on the viewscreen behind the girl. "Seems we _are_ after the same thing."

"Well, this is the closest you're gonna get." The girl back-stepped to the holograph and deleted the inventory list. The list disappeared and was replaced with the command prompts. "Seems you are tryin' to kill me for it, too," the girl said and leaned in with her aim.

Terrah held up both arms. "Sonic charge."

"What?" the girl replied.

"You shot at me; I just tossed a sonic charge at you," Terrah said flatly. "You would have been fine."

The girl laughed with satisfaction at the thought. "Just like you, Red Sun. Yeah, I know all about what a _great_ bounty hunter you are. You harpy!"

Terrah noticed something on the command prompt behind the girl and tilted her head to study it. Distracted, she barely heard the insults from the girl. She then darted her gaze to the lit wall panel, reading its lit alerts. Terrah's hands began to shake, but she calmed them before the girl would notice.

"All stories, no meat. Can't even kill right. You can be sure that I know how!" the girl challenged.

"No doubt," Terrah replied, as she began to rise confidently but slowly.

"Stay right there!" the girl ordered.

"You're too focused on the bounty, Kid," Terrah replied. "Didn't you notice the ship display?"

"Shut up," the girl said. "I noticed." The girl's shoulders fell a little and she shifted her feet.

"Did you?" Terrah asked and nodded to the screen. "Look at the last order."

The girl wavered but succumbed to the temptation to look. It was an evacuation order. The diversion was enough; and before she could contemplate it thoroughly, Terrah had wrenched the girl's arm behind her back and had forced her to drop the pistol. Terrah then removed the girl's second pistol from its holster and tossed it into the corner where it clattered between the walls.

The girl heaved her hips back, trying to buck Terrah off, but Terrah slammed her forehead down on the controls and kicked out one of her legs.

"Stop, kid," she commanded. The girl still flailed like a womp rat in a foot snare. "Think. An evacuation order. Look there." Terrah made sure to angle the girl's head at the escape pod diagnostic panel to her right. Of the eight lights indicating their deployment, seven of them were lit.

The girl settled down and relaxed as she realized. "Of course, it's always a-"

"Now you two are making quite a squawking ruckus," a gruff voice interrupted from the second command bay door.

Terrah turned sharply to look at a blue Chagrian standing smugly with his arms crossed in front. He wore a brown leather strapped vest and a satisfied smirk. He started to thumb his intricately tattooed chin.

A Karkarodon stepped in after him with a terrified Weequay in custody. He threw the man to the ground as if he was trying to break the floor with him. The Karkarodon kicked forcefully down on his back and settled his weight on the fallen prisoner. The Weequay cried out in pain.

"Very well, Mistok," Cotrel, the Chagrian pirate guild leader, said. He stood motionless as his other Duros guard worked around him on his right. The Duros raised his whistler carbine blaster and directed its muzzle at the two females.

Terrah reluctantly let up on the girl's head and stepped back allowing the girl to straightened up. The girl rubbed the back of her silver helmet, before shoving Terrah off.

"Cotrel," Terrah addressed as she settled her stance. "Pleasure, as always." Terrah started with her usual tone for negotiations with him.

"Pleasure's mine," Cotrel answered with a nod of his head. "So, find what you were looking for?"

Terrah was playing the game again, trying to free herself from a snare. "Did you?" She did not want to move a muscle with the Duros marking her.

The girl was not as cautious. She produced two vibroblades from her wrist gauntlets and took a step forward. "You don't know who you're messin' with, Leatherneck!"

Cotrel was amused and put his hand on the top of the Duro's blaster. "That's enough, Noes." The Duros lowered the weapon cautiously. "I'm not here for you, if that's what you think," Cotrel continued. "Let's all put our weapons away." There was a moment when every blade and pistol returned to their places with onerous caution leaving no one at a disadvantage except for the obvious Weequay moaning on the floor. Mistok, the Karkaradon, kicked him resolutely in the side.

"So, that's better," Cotrel said. "And now for business, Sun. Looks like you and I are coming up short on our plans."

The girl clenched her fists and tensed her shoulders.

"What's going on here?" Cotrel continued.

Before Terrah could answer, the girl jumped on the opportunity. "Like we'll tell you!"

Terrah shook her head, and Cotrel looked at the girl patronizingly.

"Who is this kid?" Cotrel huffed. "She with you?"

"No, I-" Terrah started.

"Not in her dreams," the girl interrupted. "And yeah, she found me like she finds everything else. By accident!"

Cotrel laughed out loud. "This kid's got a chip on her shoulder for you, Sun!"

"Stop calling me kid!" the girl replied. "Name's Ohara Fett! Get used to it, cause you're gonna hear a lot of it from now on."

That did it. She dropped the name Fett, a name everyone in the room knew. Terrah found herself mute; she understood the implications. Still, she tried to convince herself that the association with the Fett name was just a coincidence. Perhaps it was another Fett. Terrah felt the discomfort rising but would not admit it as any feeling such as regret or sorrow. It was another trap, another snare, another race to save herself.

"Fett, huh?" Cotrel questioned and stepped closer to her. "Explains the armor, I guess. Boba Fett?"

"Yeah," the girl said. She put her hand on her hip, satisfied with the attention. "He taught me everything I know."

Terrah leaned away and put her hand on the console. There was no denying it, the truth was evident; a young hot-headed girl with the Terrah clone symbol, and raised by of all people, Boba Fett. This was her daughter, Videsse.

"Well," Cotrel continued. "He didn't teach you to shut up, that's for sure. Wonder if you picked up anything at all."

"Just ask the Keeper," she replied.

Cotrel furrowed his brow and smirked at the thought.

"Yeah, that fake over there took all the credit for my work!" Videsse accused.

Cotrel exhaled and shook his head in disbelief. He waved his hand and changed the subject. "Whatever."

Videsse's form seemed to tense as if she were about to explode.

Cotrel turned to Terrah. "I'm here for Sleenwai. And we all know this ship's abandoned. I suppose you don't know what's happened?"

Terrah, still flustered, took a moment before she realized that Cotrel was addressing her. "Oh," she said. "I was just looking into that when you arrived."

"Looked like it," Cotrel said, his voice soaked in sarcasm. "Noes, get on the prompts and tell me what happened."

Noes hurried to the console and his dark green fingers started to work the controls.

"Evacuation order," he stated the facts quickly. "No reason given. Seven pods deployed. Evacuation order by Sleenwai-"

The hologram display snapped closed abruptly and was replaced with a transmission. The Duros stepped back in surprise as the large blue-grey holograph of a Nautolan appeared. His black eyes moved from each person in the command bridge. His multiple head tentacles hung down over his shoulders like hair, and he shook them before speaking.

"Cotrel!" the Nautolan said with a boisterous voice. "My good friend. Not surprised to see you."

"Sleenwai," Cotrel replied.

"If you wanted a meeting, you know there were better ways," Sleenwai ridiculed. "And what a crew you have brought. Who's there? Your lackeys, of course." The Karkarodon and the Duros shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "And who else. . . oh yes, Red Sun," he smiled as he said it. "Seems you hired the best."

Terrah didn't give a hint of unease at the comment. "A pleasure, Sleenwai," she addressed.

"And who is that other one?" Sleenwai asked.

"The name's Oha-" Videsse started with rowdy intent.

"Never mind her," Cotrel interrupted trying to avoid another dose from the kid. "Where are you, Sleenwai? We've got important business to discuss."

The Duros was monitoring the transmission. "Boss, the message is coming from on the ship. He's here," he said in a low voice.

"What business do you want to discuss, Cotrel?" he asked. "How you hired all these goons to kill me? Well, you're going to regret that."

"If I did, that would be payment for your posturing to take over the guild."

Terrah stepped over to Videsse and tried to move her away from the display. Videsse shoved off her press and glared at her.

"Quiet," Terrah said in a whisper. "Sleenwai thinks we're here to take him out."

"Yeah, so," Videsse commented coldly.

"So he doesn't know about Gabril's bounty," Videsse said. Cotrel and Sleenwai were so absorbed in their own banterings that they ignored Videsse and Terrah.

"What do I care about what he knows?" Videsse replied in a harsh whisper.

"Would you just shut up and listen, Kid-eh, Ohara? We're about to get caught up in something we don't want. I'm getting off this ship. I suggest you do the same."

Terrah stepped back to the console and slipped her foot by the one of the pistols that Videsse had dropped. She slid it back over to Videsse. Terrah satisfied herself by thinking she at least gave Videsse some help; now the kid would have to do the rest on her own.

Cotrel and Sleenwai continued. "So I hope you enjoy deep space, Cotrel," Sleenwai said. "You're going to die there. But don't worry, I'll take care of the guild for you. And Stick," Sleenwai addressed the Weequay that was on the floor. The Weequay's brown thick-skinned face looked up to Sleenwai. "I'm sorry, Stick. But you got caught. Now you have a heavy price to pay." The Nautolan shook his head tentacles again, and the transmission died.

The final escape pod light lit suddenly.

"Boss," Noes said. "The last escape pod just ejected."

Cotrel gritted his teeth. "Sleenwai, that bantha fodder."

A low hum started throughout the command bridge. It's volume started to rise.

"What's that?" Mistok asked and leaned toward the viewscreen.

"The hyperdrive," Noes said. "It's charging up."

"Well, stop it before it initiates," Cotrel commanded with rising discomfort.

"I can't, Sleenwai's got it rigged," the Duros said with a wavering voice as he fussed with the controls desperately.

"Then what are the coordinates?" Mistok's loud voice growled through his shark teeth.

"None," Noes answered. "It's going to just go."

They knew exactly what that meant, and a shiver went through everyone's core. The _Blood Krayt_ would sail into empty space until the power core burnt out. That could take weeks, and with every second they would be further away from the galaxy. There would be no hope for their smaller ships to make the trip back. Mistok looked down to the Weequay, but the empty grate was all that was there. He was gone, having run out.

"I think the Weequay's got the right idea," Terrah said and ran for the door.

The rest took a quick glance at each other and took to flight a second behind her.


	28. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Racing Lightspeed

" _Raider_ , man incoming! Don't let him board you," Terrah ordered into her wrist transceiver as she ran. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard Videsse giving a similar order into her communicator as they ran down the metal hall. Their footfalls clanged on the rusted metal grates like captured animals slamming at cage bars.

"If that scum gets our ship, you'll have a price to pay, Mistok," Cotrell yelled out.

They turned the corner and came to the elevator transport, but it had already left with the fleeing pirate. Terrah shot the control mechanism on the right and then pried the doors open. As soon as the doors were open enough for her to slip through, she leapt into the black corridor. Her boot boosters ignited for a split second to soften the landing as she touched down on top of the elevator transport. With quick movements, she unlatched the dorsal hatch and dropped in. The Weequay had already exited and was in the landing bay.

The _Blood Krayt_ lurched and shook, announcing the impending hyperdrive activation. Terrah took a step to balance and then sprinted with red-blooded strides toward _Raider._

The Weequay ran from _Raider_ , the ship's blaster fire at his heels. He dashed toward the Kom'rk fighter, but a PZ droid donning an E-11 blaster rifle stood resolutely in front of it. The fear on the Weequay's face was evident as the pirate ship shook again. He darted for the Corellian light freighter; and, finding no one guarding it, he disappeared up the ramp.

The rest of the infiltrators had now arrived on the landing bay. Calling out to the droid, Videsse ran toward the Kom'rk ship. "PZ-85, get in and get the systems on now!"

"Yes, Ohara," the PZ droid replied. Then he pivoted awkwardly and suffered a slight epileptic tremor before hobbling back to the Kom'rk fighter. He moved slowly, even for a protocol droid, twitching every other step.

The U-shaped Corellian light freighter began to lift, angling toward the exit.

Cotrel gritted his sharp teeth, before pulling out his blaster and firing on the freighter. "Get that dead man off my ship!" He knew the blaster would do no good, but he fired anyway.

With one final and unexpected lurch, the _Blood Krayt_ erupted into hyperspace. Everyone fell to the floor with the seismic disruption. The hovering freighter slammed against the wall of the landing bay, denting it but not destroying either the bay or the freighter. The Weequay stabilized the freighter and angled back for the open bay, the blue nebulous light of hyperspace now casting shifting shadows behind him.

"What's he doing?" Cotrel asked as he got up. "He can't go out now."

However, that is what he was doing. Cotrel's freighter drifted toward the exit and started to pass through.

"He's crazy!" the Duros exclaimed.

"And he's going to destroy my ship if he passes beyond the quantum field!" Cotrel added with furious rage as he shot a glare at Mistok. Mistok looked away sheepishly.

For a moment it looked as if the freighter might be able to pass, its dual mandibles well through the exit, but that was short-lived. Once the stern of the ship had just passed out of the energy field, the ship shifted unexpectedly, its bow jerking aft just before it dissolved before the forward mandibles like sand in a river current; the bow, the engines, the cockpit and finally the stern all erased away in a granulated cyclonic mist.

The rest watched silently, their hope erased away with it.

"What did he do that for!" Noes called out. "He had to know he would have died."

No one wanted to give an answer.

"It was worth it," Terrah's eventually said with deadly finality. They turned to look at her. "He knew he was dead," she continued. "Better dead than trapped."

Terrah shifted her gaze to Videsse who was with the PZ droid in front of the Mandalorian starfighter. The droid had fallen with the hyperspace jump and struggled rheumatically to get itself up. Videsse had her arm under his, helping to lift him, like a daughter aiding an old man. There was a slow and careful tenderness in the way the girl helped the droid. She lifted him upright and rubbed his shoulder. Videsse spoke soft words to the droid that Terrah could not hear. Terrah looked away and to the ground.

...

"So, what do we do now?" Mistok asked, rubbing the gray-scaled skin of his forehead.

"We have to shut off the hyperdrive," Terrah replied with the obvious. "And quickly."

"Easier said than done," Noes chided. "You can't just flip a switch. Sleenwai's made sure of that."

Terrah turned around to think and folded her arms as she paced in front of the battered E-Wing. She looked at the E-Wing and was distracted a moment in thought. Videsse joined the group.

"Whose snub is this?" Terrah asked.

No one answered. The snub-fighter was a mystery to all of them. "Well, we need to shut down the hyperdrive," Terrah continued. "And we need to keep an eye out for the owner of this junk ship. Someone else is sneaking around here."

"I gotta idea about the drive," Videsse returned to the pressing matter and stepped forward. PZ-85 remained with her ship.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do," Cotrel jabbed and fingered his head tentacle piercing.

Videsse put her hand on her pistol. "Well, I can make sure you don't hear it if you don't wanna!"

Cotrel's slight chuckle showed that he was not affected by Videsse's threat.

"Let's hear her," Terrah said and walked up beside Videsse. "What are you thinking, Ohara?"

"We need to back-flood the motivator," Videsse said. "Just reverse hook some power cells-I saw a bunch on the cargo hold manifest-and hook 'em to the motivator. It'll choke."

"Tech talk," Mistok gasped. "What's she even saying?"

Cotrel waved his arms, "That right, Noes?"

"She could be right," the Duros said. "The motivator modifies the energy from the core for the hyperdrive. Overload the motivator, and that'll starve the hyperdrive. She may have a point, but it'll wreck the core."

"Who cares about the core?" Cotrel asked.

"We will when it blows up," Noes answered.

"Fine, forget the kid's idea," Cotrel quickly stated.

"Wait," Videsse jumped in. "It won't blow up! It'll just fracture . . . causing a gaseous fuel leak. Which . . . could explode. . . if ignited with a faulty electrical system." The loading bay lights flickered out for a moment. Videsse was not helping her argument. "But we'd have time."

"How much," Terrah asked.

"Ten or fifteen minutes, maybe," Videsse replied. "Enough to get outta here, anyway."

"I say we just blow the motivator up," Mistok added his opinion to the discussion.

"Fine," Videsse said with acidic determination. "A motivator big enough for this ship-it takes the equivalent of a _Resurgent-class_ Star Destroyer turbolaser blast. You got that much explosive on your belt?"

The Karkaradon looked down as if he was going to check but then looked back up with embarrassment.

After a moment with no comments, Terrah asked, "Any other ideas?" No one could come up with one. "Then let's not waste time and get this done."


	29. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Sounds in the Dark

The cargo hold was located near the bow of the ship, one level below the command bridge. It was massive, and like most of the ship, poorly lit. Spasming track lights embedded in the floor outlined the aisles and created a ventral lighting that dissipated as it rose to the black ceiling. Crates were stacked up two meters in each aisle, just high enough to be over everyone's head. The narrow walkways and the darkness above pressed in on all of them.

Some of the crates were opaque, others clear. Some were labeled, and others not. There were crates labeled from anything between luxury stores and food rations. Terrah ran her hand over a crate labeled "Amaralite."

"That's quite a find," she said to herself, but quickly returned to the matter at hand. "Let's split up down each aisle and look for the cells."

No one objected. Terrah and Videsse went down one aisle, and the other three split between two, the Karkarodon taking an aisle by himself.

The cargo room was forty meters by twenty meters and just under nine meters tall, most of which was filled with crated plunder arranged in rows; dark trenches for them to walk through. Terrah reached behind her helmet and lit her headlamp, casting a brilliant beam into the darkness. They walked quickly, reading the crate markings and occasionally stopping to open any that had no description.

Clanging of the floor grates happened from time to time, which echoed throughout the dank and dark room, reverberating until the sound disappeared into the void. The sharp voices of the pirates could be heard calling out to each other in harsh tones on the other side, somewhere in the same void. Terrah stopped to listen suddenly, her body becoming rigid, and her mentation, focused.

Videsse continued to walk forward but then realized that Terrah had stopped. She turned around. "What, you just gonna let me find it?" Videsse asked, then not waiting for an answer returned to her search.

"Did you hear that?" Terrah asked.

"Yeah, a bunch of nerfherders," Videsse said referring to the pirates, as she tried to pry open another unmarked crate.

"No, something else," Terrah replied. "Like a huffing sound."

Videsse shook her head and responded without a sarcastic tone, surprisingly. "Probably your earpiece picking up your breathing. It happens."

Terrah rapped her helmet to adjust the speaker, listening over the pirate's bantering. After a quiet moment, Terrah tapped her earpiece again and resumed the search. "Maybe you're right." However, she continued to check behind her and at the top of the aisle.

It was not long after, that Terrah and Videsse found what they were looking for, a hover crate fitted with a dozen fuel cells. The cylindrical canisters were arranged like fambaas eggs in the foam nest, each about half a meter long and twenty centimeters in diameter.

"Do you think that'll be enough?" Terrah asked Videsse.

"Yeah, I think," she replied, but her lack of confidence left room for doubt. "Let's get 'em outta here."

As Terrah activated the hover cart, it emitted a magnetic hum and lifted a foot off the ground. She angled it into the path, and together they pushed it down the aisle toward the exit. The two of them were silent, and walked as quickly as the hover cart would move. They passed through the doors into the corridor that led back to the landing bay.

They did not say anything, but both felt like leaving the pirates searching in the hold. They paused and looked back at the open door, and that was all the communication they needed. Each understood and turned to move the hover cart. Terrah smiled under her helmet at the thought of Cotrel searching for another thirty minutes, but she was more amused that Videsse had the same idea.

Suddenly, blaster fire erupted behind them within the darkness, followed by the hair-raising screams of the Karkarodon. Without thinking both Terrah and Videsse ran back into the hold, disruptor pistols ready. Terrah flipped off her headlamp as they ran. She would have activated her cloak, but she remembered that it was still shorted out. They dodged around the aisle until finally, they came to the bloody scene.

Mistok lay breathless on the cold metal ground, blue blood flowing down between the grates, its drips making dabbing noises on the wires beneath. Standing over him a dark figure with a pistol in his right hand, looked down on the fallen brute.

Videsse and Terrah covered him with their disruptor pistols. Terrah switched on her headlamp, flooding the figure in light. It was a male Rodian, the back of his green head stippled with head spines.

"Hold it right there," Terrah called out. "Drop the weapon!"

The Rodian's ears perked up and shifted. The pistol dropped to the ground, it's thud dulled by the coagulating blood.

"This wasn't me," the Rodian said. "It wasn't me." His hands shook as he raised them above his head.

"Turn around!" Videsse shouted. The Rodian started to turn. "Slowly!"

He took small steps. "I swear, this wasn't me," he continued to say as he rounded about.

Terrah's pistol lowered an inch. The Rodian was wide-eyed and terrified. His lips quivered, but he tried to stand perfectly still.

"Cheedo?" Terrah asked with a confused tone. "What are you doing here?"

He did not answer the question but replied with a shaky voice. "We need to get out of here, Sun."

Before Terrah could ask why, Cotrel and Noes approached from behind her. Cotrel saw his muscle dead on the ground behind Cheedo and inferred all that he wanted to know. He raised his own blaster.

"Cheedo, you just made this real easy for me," Cotrel said with murderous intent. "I've been waiting a long time to get rid of you, You Snitch! How much is the Third Republic paying you this time?"

"Wait, wait!" Cheedo pleaded and lowered his head behind his arms. "You don't understand."

Videsse stepped up in between them as she went to look at Mistok's body. Cotrel grew frustrated with her. "Out of the way, Kid!" he ordered. "Or I'll fill you with bolts, too."

"Don't you wanna know what happened," Videsse retorted as she went and picked up Cheedo's blaster, putting it in her empty left holster. "This is mine now," she said to Cheedo. "Dare you to try for it." She then bent over the Karkarodon.

Cheedo shook in fear. "Please, listen. Something's on this ship." His hands quivered. "I didn't do this."

"Kind of hard to believe, Cheedo," Cotrel derided.

"I'm afraid this guy maybe tellin' the truth," Videsse spoke up and looked at Cheedo. "Mistok's been gutted."

"What?" Cotrel asked.

"Yeah, cut up real good. These gashes look at least ten centimeters deep. Claws it looks like," Videsse replied. She slipped her gauntlet into a deep abdominal gash up to her knuckles. Blue blood poured out as she did.

"That's what I was trying to tell you," Cheedo stammered. "I didn't do this."

"Then what did," Terrah asked, her agitation rising.

Cheedo answered with broken speech. "I don't know. It was dark. Couldn't see it well. He fired right at it. A shadow. The bolts did nothing. It came from up there." He pointed to the top of an aisle.

They all looked up to the top of the crates, but it was just high enough for them not to see over. Terrah's headlamp lit up the black air as she moved her head back-and-forth from one aisle to the other. She stepped back, retreating to the exit. The rest squinted in the dark, trying to see as best they could.

Something fell five meters away, but no footfalls could be heard.

"We need to get out of here," Cheedo pleaded as he darted his gaze around.

A brown flash of an animal sailed through Terrah's headlamp beam as _whatever it was_ jumped from one aisle to the next. Terrah reflexively fired three shots. "Did you see that!" she called out.

A huff sound came from above the crates.

"Time to go," Terrah ordered. No one complained. Again they ran, but this time the huffing noise pursued above them. Cotrel offered a few shots at the top of the crate, one of the red blaster shots causing a long shadow of the creature to strobe on the ceiling.

The huffing sound seemed to run parallel with them now as they came to the end of the aisle. They sprinted toward the open exit, Videsse bringing up the rear. A floor grate six meters to their left crashed as the unseen creature landed on the deck. It was still hidden in the darkness.

Terrah made it through the door and turned to the control panel to seal it shut. She waited. Cotrell and Noes rushed through, then Cheedo. She waited. The loud shaking sound of the floor grates got closer with the creatures every stride. Videsse dove through the door, her Z-6 pack firing to speed her up. Terrah slammed the blast door controls. It jerked to shut but stopped just twenty centimeters from shutting. The spasm lasted only a second before it slid closed completely. Two massive scaled feet were seen halting at the door just before it sealed. Its fifteen-centimeter retractable claws were painted with blue blood.

Terrah breathed a sigh of relief and turned off her headlamp.

"What was that thing," Noes cried out. No one had an answer.

"Well, at least it's sealed in there," Videsse commented.

Cheedo squinted his eyes in uneasiness as if he was going to say something, but restrained himself.

Terrah noticed. "It is sealed in there, right? Cheedo?"

"I, uh, came in the side door," he said. "That door is still open."

Cotrel threw his hands up. "As if we needed another reason to get off this ship!"

The lights flickered again, but this time they shut off completely, leaving them in pitch darkness.

"And I was worried about that," Videsse said.

"Worried about what?" Cotrel said, obviously upset.

"The hyperdrive is putting added stress on that trash electrical system," she replied. "That means the lights go. Maybe the doors. Maybe life support."


	30. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Procession

"Well, let's just kill that thing." Of course, it was Videsse speaking.

Cotrel held up a small electric torch that pushed the darkness away a couple meters. "We don't even know what that thing is, let alone how to kill it," he snapped back.

"Well, we can shoot it can't we?" Videsse quipped back just as quickly. "Who cares what it is?"

"Weren't you listening to what he said?" Noes asked nervously, as he waved his hand toward the Rodian. A bead of sweat fell down his forehead. "Mistok's blaster didn't even touch it!"

Cheedo looked restlessly into the distant darkness when he realized Noes was referring to him. Cheedo glanced back to the warm light where the others were talking. "Just sitting here is a bad idea," he said with discerning forethought, although the rest interpreted it as fear.

Deep in contemplation, Terrah spoke up. "Cheedo, you saw it best. What do you think it was?"

Cheedo rubbed his scaly head ridge. "Haven't a clue. Some kind of hound, I guess. Maybe a small katarn or a vornskyr."

All of those animals were known to be deadly hunters; however, they could be harmed by blaster fire, which made his guesses unlikely.

"Why are we even listening to this informant," Cotrel grunted malignantly. "He probably brought the thing here, for all we know. It may just be another Third Republic backroom deal he made!"

Cheedo did not reply to the accusation.

Terrah brought the conversation back to the point. "Whatever that thing is, the more time we spend trying to figure out what it is and how to kill it, the further we sail into nowhere. The primary thing we need to do is get that hyperdrive off. If we bump into that . . . _thing_ on the way, then we'll deal with it."

"Easy to say," Noes jumped in. "Hard to accomplish."

"So, what's your plan then," Terrah countered. "Just hide from it until the core dies?"

Noes did not have a reply.

"We got these, don't we," Videsse argued as she held up one of her anti-armor grenades. "I bet they'll work." Her arrogant tone added to the Duros' embarrassment.

"Yeah, let's just let the kid blow us all up," Cotrel replied, as a spray of spit flew from his mouth.

"Enough," Terrah said with annoyance. "Let's get these power cells to the motivator and shut it down. We just need to keep an eye out for the hound." She did not know what to call it, but _hound_ fit.

"Fine," Cotrel agreed. "But if that kid's going to flash her grenades, she'd better stay clear of me. Last I figured, blasters will work on _her_." He removed his blaster to make his point clear and walked to the front. "Noes, you're going to lead the way." He sharply shoved the Duros to the front of the line. Noes stumbled but regained his stride after a few steps.

"I'll get the power cells," Terrah said, touching her helmet to activate her headlamp. "You keep an eye out behind us." Terrah felt confident that Videsse would shoot or blow up anything that moves—a great watchman if there ever was.

"Of course, I'll do the dangerous work. Don't worry, you won't have to kill anything," Videsse replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She pivoted her head antenna over her viewport and activated the antenna lamp.

Terrah shook her head, but did not reply to her. Instead, she muttered to herself, "This kid doesn't make anything easy, does she?" Terrah activated the hover lift and began to push the cart.

Cheedo, weaponless, scurried his way to the center of the line. They headed back through the hangar bay on their way to the lower engine room, walking single-file in the lamp lit hallway. Their procession was silent and tense, as if they were carrying the dead to their burial, an armed Honor Guard walking in front and behind the power cell coffin. Noes and Videsse held their weapons at attention, ready to fire a _salute_ at anything disquieting.

The group arrived at the hangar bay, and they cautiously passed through. Although the lights were out, the bay was lit with the ghostly blue-gray light from hyperspace, causing their shadows to flicker beside them in long, spectral streaks.

Videsse closed the blast door behind them as she exited the corridor.

Terrah turned her head to look back. "What are you shutting that for?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Videsse replied. "The more doors we shut, the less that thing can get around."

"And what if you shut us in with it?" Terrah countered.

Videsse shrugged as if Terrah was being absurd. "Whatever." She broke ranks to rush off to her PZ droid who was still standing sentinel over her ship. "You okay?" she asked him.

"Ye-Yes. Nothing to com- comment on. I am keeping the ship sec-secure like you said," PZ-85 stammered.

Videsse put her hand on his arm. "Thanks. You're doin' great."

"Di-Did you want me to follow you? You know my pro-programming can be useful," he offered. "I do not like the looks of your com-company."

Cotrel looked over at the two of them with veiled interest.

"No," Videsse said. "I need you here. Protect _Blade-4_ , and you are protecting me. Got it?" She was referring to the _Kom'rk_ -class ship.

"Ye-Yes," PZ-85 stammered with his electrical voice. "But, my a-assessment of your-"

Videsse interrupted with a soft rebuke, "Shut up, PZ. I need you here."

"As you wi-wish," he replied.

"Thank you," she said and returned to the end of the line.

Terrah wavered on whether to inquire about the interaction; but ended up asking, "What's wrong with your droid?"

Videsse's haughty facade returned. "Nothing," she snapped. That was the end of Terrah's inquiry.


	31. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Predator and Prey

The procession passed through the aft door of the hangar bay and entered the corridor that led to the hyperdrive room on the lowest level. This corridor was like every other passage in the ship, run-down and neglected: the same rust-colored walls, the same rickety grates, and the same malfunctioning lights. To their left just as they entered was the transport. Its door was open, revealing the unlit lift.

Noes still led the way, followed by Cotrel, Cheedo, Terrah, and then Videsse. As Videsse passed through the door, she made sure to shut the seizing door behind them. Terrah shuddered at the thought but did not say anything.

"Just up here," Noes called back, "and we'll be at the engine room."

After a few more steps, Cheedo stopped suddenly in front of Terrah.

"What's the matter?" Terrah asked as she halted.

Cheedo pointed to Noes, who had also stopped. "When our watchman stops, I stop."

Noes was at attention, his whistler blaster raised and aiming into the darkness. "Shine a light up here!" he yelled back with a cracking voice. "I heard something."

"You're hearing things," Cotrel snapped. "We left the hound behind us. How could it be up here?"

"Don't know, but I know what I heard," Noes replied.

Videsse made her way up the line behind Noes and lit the corridor with her antenna lamp. There was nothing but an empty hall with the engine room door ten meters away.

"What was it that you heard?" Videsse asked.

"I thought it was that exhale sound. You know," Noes said in a low voice. His blaster shook slightly.

The hall became completely silent as everyone listened. There was nothing; not a sound of breathing nor a footfall. Terrah could only hear a dull rhythmic beating in her head. Their lamp beams moved from the corridor in front of them to behind and back to the front; nothing.

"Maybe it was nothing," Noes said as his blaster relaxed a bit. "Maybe we should keep moving." He started forward cautiously.

"Wait," Videsse called out, putting her hand on his shoulder.

He made a step forward onto the next grate, which shifted under his feet. A savage huff issued from beneath him. Videsse leapt back. Noes head dropped to look down in fear; but before he could do anything, the floor grate caved in, two massive claws gripped his leg, and his blaster bolts ricocheted off the wall. Noes was sucked into the floor, his body gone. His screams filled the air.

Cheedo and Cotrel had already started to flee back the way they came. Videsse, stunned, stood inert for a moment; then, regaining her sense, she pulled out a grenade and lobbed it into the open floor.

"Let's go, Ohara!" Terrah called to her.

Videsse turned on her heels and followed. The grenade explosion shook the corridor, causing some of the other grates to pop and crash down with an echoing riot. There was a roar underneath. The next grate nearest Videsse shifted in a loud clang as the hound hit it from below, then the next grate and the next, picking up speed as it headed toward the fleeing prey.

"It's coming," Videsse yelled to Terrah as they ran. "Guess grenades don't work either!"

Cheedo reached the closed hangar door first, but it spasmed as he tried to open it. He looked back to the others running toward him, and then jumped into the lift. It was dead. He opened the top hatch and quickly disappeared into it.

Cotrel followed without thinking, struggling a little to get his legs up and through.

The grates shook with the hound approaching as it gained on Terrah and Videsse.

Terrah made it to the lift just in time to see Cotrel's feet disappear into the darkness of the transport shaft. She stepped out of the lift and aimed her two disruptor pistols past the sprinting Videsse and shot at the floor.

"Get up the shaft, Ohara!" she ordered, as she sprayed the floor with red rain. Every cell in her body wanted to get into that shaft. Still, for a reason she did not admit to herself, she stayed to make sure Videsse made it into the lift.

Videsse whipped into the transport and hoisted herself through the hatch, her clunky V-6 pack just barely fitting.

Terrah did not waste a millisecond, raising herself up immediately after Videsse. The grate outside the lift crashed, and the lift shook under Terrah's feet as the creature hurtled into the lift. She looked down to see the back of the creature as it flailed inside the lift, slamming itself into the sides. Its back was covered in thick, course, grizzled hair.

Terrah did not wait to get a better look. The rest of them had already started climbing the maintenance ladder to the middle level. Terrah climbed swiftly, hand over hand, as fast as she could.

The huffing sound continued inside the lift, then grew quiet. They continued to climb. Another huff sounded, this time it was in the shaft behind them. Terrah's heart was in her throat.

"It's in the shaft!" she yelled to the others ahead of her. "Faster!"

The sound of grating claws on the metal walls emitted a high pitched shrill as the creature ascended the walls. It was climbing.

Terrah looked down and quickly illuminated the metal cavern. As soon as the light hit the hound, it leapt from the beam to the shadow of the opposite wall. It clung wildly to the side before continuing its climb. Terrah had seen it-a flash of it: black eyes, four eyes, claws, scales, fur, and teeth, sharp snapping teeth. In that brief glimpse, she knew it was something she had ever seen before. She lost her breath, but managed to keep her limbs moving, foot-over-foot, hand-over-hand. The scraping claws continued their single-minded approach.

Cheedo was out the transport door at the second level. Cotrel made it through as well. Videsse approached to the door. A metal sliding echoed through the shaft followed by a hollow clang.

"That Leatherneck!" Videsse shouted. "Cotrel locked the door!"

The clawing drew nearer.

Terrah gritted her teeth and thought quickly. "Third level! Fly!" She activated her boot rockets and flew up past Videsse. Videsse ignited her pack and ascended.

Terrah's boots sputtered at the top, and she re-gripped the maintenance ladder beside the third level doors. She pried the door open with her gauntlets and pushed the doors apart with her back and arms before slipping through. Videsse crested her flight and passed into the hall, the hound still pursuing.

Videsse attempted to close the door, but it only whined in response. "Sod it!" she exclaimed. The scraping sound of the hound was only five meters below. They ran.

This hall contained the crew quarters, with multiple cabins on both sides. Some doors were open, others closed. Either end of the hall was a dead end, except for the forward lift. Terrah recognized that there was no way they could outrun the creature to the forward lift. She dodged into one of the open cabins. "In here!" she called back to Videsse. Videsse did not argue.

Once in, Terrah tried to shut the door with the control panel. It started to close before slowing to a stop half-way down. The grate outside the lift clanged under the pressure of the hound.

"We've got to shut it manually," Terrah said, smashing the knee-high emergency panel on the right of the door. A crank handle fell out. Terrah snatched it up, attached it to the gear inside the panel, and wrenched it around as fast as she could. Every turn moved the door panel four centimeters down. The hound approached within four meters. A half meter was left to close. The huffing exhale was two meters away. Still the door was open enough for it to fit. Terrah cranked; ten centimeters.

The creature's feet—all six of them—paced in front of the door, unable to fit through. Still Terrah cranked. One of its claws burst through the opening and hooked Terrah's boot. She fell as her leg was dragged through the opening.

Videsse jumped on top of Terrah grabbing her waist with one arm and brandishing her vibroblade in the other.

Terrah blasted the last of her boot rocket fuel, burning the hound with the jet fire. The beast roared and gave up some ground as Terrah strained her foot into the cabin, the creature still clutching the armored boot, and tugging it back. Terrah grunted as she tried to rip her foot away, straining with every muscle. Videsse stabbed violently at the hound's foot. Her blade turned at each stab, not piercing its scaled skin. However, the hound seemed to feel the attack, releasing Terrah's boot. She flew back into the cabin and crashed into the far wall between the cabin bunks. Videsse manned the crank, being sure to keep her feet away from the opening. The door finally sealed shut.

Videsse collapsed to the floor, panting. "You're welcome," she said.

Terrah breathed heavy as well. "Thanks."

The hound pounded on the door from outside, an indomitable hunter determined to capture its cornered prey.

Terrah switched off her head lamp. "Best shut your lamp off. Save the power cells," Terrah advised. "We may be here a while."

Videsse nodded and switched off her lamp. They were swallowed up into darkness. The death knell of the hound's pounding resounded through the room.


	32. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Dark Conversation

"How did we end up here?" Videsse complained rhetorically.

The hound slammed again against the door, as Videsse and Terrah sat in the opaque blackness.

"That chatty pirate on Indoumodo was Sleenwai's plant," Terrah deduced. "We picked up a trail meant for Cotrel. And here we are."

"Yeah, here we are," Videsse echoed with a beaten humor.

Claws scraped on the outside of the door. Videsse winced at the screeching noise of them. The two bounty hunters remained silent for a few minutes, hoping that the sounds of the beast outside would cease. The slamming and scraping became less frequent, but the creature could still be heard pacing outside the door, sniffing and huffing.

Videsse started the conversation up again. "That Rodian. You know him?"

"Cheedo," Terrah answered. "He used to be a bounty hunter; a pathetic one."

"And now he works for The Third?" Videsse inquired, referring to the Third Republic.

"Yeah, and he's bad at that, too, if you hadn't noticed. When you're a snitch, it's best if no one knows," Terrah stated. "He failed at that, like everything else."

"So, what's he doin' here?" Videsse asked.

"Pirates, secret deals, bounties—looks like he's got plenty to talk to the the Third Republic about. You wanted to make a name for Ohara Fett: if he gets back to the galaxy, you can be sure you'll make the Republic's list. That ought to make you happy."

Videsse did not comment, to Terrah's surprise. Terrah decided to change the subject to smaller talk. "I noticed you like the DX-2."

"Yeah, that pistol is light, and its trigger response is nice. Not much punch, though. And its long range accuracy could be better. But it just feels right. You use the same one, I saw," Videsse replied.

"You said it well. It just feels right," Terrah agreed.

"What else you got on that belt?" Videsse continued, obviously interested in weapon-talk.

"Sonic and ion pulse charges, a cloak generator—that you shorted out. Thank you," Terrah replied. Those charges were only useful at incapacitating biologicals and droids; but did not cause damage.

Videsse ignored the accusation, but continued with a commentary. "What! No physical charges? What about your wrist darts? What are those?"

"Tranquilizers," Terrah replied.

"Tranq-darts!" Videsse exclaimed with astonishment. "You don't like killin', do ya?"

"Killing is a good way to have a trail of revenge-seekers hunting you. I avoid it if I can," Terrah defended.

"What do you do if you have to kill?"

"That's what the DX-2's are for," Terrah stated.

Videsse huffed in disbelief. "I'm amazed you're still livin'," she blurted out in a laugh.

Terrah smiled inwardly at the deeper significance of that statement. "You have no idea, how true that is," she stated.

For a moment their attention was directed back to the creature outside the door. Its pacing could still be heard through the thick blackness.

"Persistent, ain't it?" Videsse said.

More silent time passed. Their adrenaline rush subsided as they began to feel the effects of their stress and exertion. The two of them listened, waited, and counted the minutes. Every shake of the shifting grates outside dashed their hope, starting their countdown again. The jet black room, the rhythmic pacing of the beast, the dull hum of the ship, and the counting of the minutes—it all seemed to steep them in drowsiness. Their shoulders dropped as they began to slouch against the walls. The time passed slowly. Terrah shook her head, fighting off hazardous sleep.

"Ohara?" Terrah spoke up. Videsse did not answer. Terrah kicked Videsse's leg. "Hey!"

Videsse jolted up. "What ya do that for?"

Terrah was going to inform Videsse that she had fallen asleep, but reconsidered. "Sorry, I kick when I start to doze off," Terrah lied.

"Well, knock it off!" Videsse ordered. "Seriously, I don't know how ya made it this long."

Terrah smiled behind her helmet again.

"You know, I used to have a daughter . . . a lot like you," Terrah said, trying to feel out how Videsse would respond.

Videsse did not say anything immediately. Then asked in a low and unarrogant spirit, "She dead?" There was real concern behind her question.

"No," Terrah replied, but she was reluctant to add more details.

"So, why aren't you with her?" Videsse pressed further.

Terrah took a deep breath before answering. "What I do—it's dangerous. People hunt you. They try to get to you. If men like Sleenwai, or Cotrel, or . . . The Keeper," she dropped his name on purpose. "If they knew I had a daughter, they'd go after her."

"You left her, then." Videsse's voice became stiff. Her skills of deduction were not mature enough to catch Terrah's hint.

"Yeah," Terrah replied in a small voice. "I did."

Videsse thought about Terrah's answer. Finally, she commented. "That droid by the _Kom'rk_. That's all I got of my mother. She was a bounty hunter, too." Her voice was shaky and vulnerable. "She died seven years ago."

There was another pause. In the dark, Terrah could not read Videsse's body language, but the slow, rigid tone of Videsse's voice conveyed enough.

"You know how often I have wondered what it would be like to run bounties with her? How often I wished to be stuck in a fix with her, a fix just like this?"

Terrah felt something tighten in her throat but coughed it off.

"But I didn't have a choice," Videsse continued. "My mom's dead, and that's that." Her voice stiffened even more. "But _you_ had a choice. You didn't know what would have happened if you stayed. Maybe things would have been fine. The All-Knowing Red Sun. Whatever."

Terrah did not defend herself. She let Videsse throw the accusations that Terrah had fought with over and over again the last seven years. For some reason, it was easy to vindicate herself against her own accusations; however, when the indictment came from her daughter, the judgement was final.

"You may be right," Terrah conceded.

"Of course I'm right," Videsse replied ungraciously. The awkward silence that followed seemed to last for hours, until Videsse complained, "Why is it so hot in here, anyway? I'm roasting."

Terrah figured that it was just the intensity of the conversation that made them feel hot, but she soon realized the room was actually warm.

She lit her head lamp. It flashed onto Videsse, who was reclined on the floor opposite her.

"What ya doin' that for!" Videsse snapped and covered her eyes.

Terrah directed the light above them. "The heat from the hyperdrive's warming the ship."

Videsse caught on quickly. "The climate system's down."

"Yup," Terrah agreed. "And where there's a climate system-"

"There's ducts," Videsse finished. "Should have thought of that earlier."

Terrah stepped up onto the lower bunks and gripped the duct register on the ceiling. She shifted it open and dropped it on the floor. Its clatter resounded through the small room.

"Here, help me take a look," Terrah said. "Maybe we could get out of here."

Videsse stepped underneath and offered her shoulder for Terrah to step on. Terrah used it, and rose up into the duct, balancing one foot on Videsse and the other on a top bunk.

Her head and shoulders rose into the horizontal ducts that traversed the length of the ship. The ductwork space was tight but sufficient for her body to slip through. She looked toward the bow of the ship first. The head lamp lit the sterile duct for dozens of meters before disappearing geometrically in the distance. The warm, stale air stifled her. Videsse stumbled a bit under her weight, causing Terrah to drop a little before she pinned her arms in the duct to catch herself. Terrah fumbled her foot, trying to steady herself on Videsse's shoulder as she turned her head to look down the aft duct.

Four black eyes stared back at her. Thin flesh-colored lids snapped over the soulless eyes in response to the flood light. Its long tooth-lined snout ended in two massive nostrils that huffed out steam. It shifted trying to extend one of its scaled brown arms forward and edged a few centimeters ahead in the cramped space. The creature's membranous lips receded from its sharp saliva-covered teeth. Four prominent sickle-like canine fangs emerged amidst the rows of uncountable teeth. From one meter away, mist from the creature's exhale sprayed onto Terrah's eye shields. Terrah gasped and dropped her foot from Videsse's shoulder, letting her body fall from the duct. Videsse stepped aside to avoid collapsing under Terrah's weight.

"The climate system's not down," Terrah said quickly and ran to the door crank. She hurriedly spun the crank. "It's blocked."

"With what?" Videsse asked. "And why are you opening that door? The hound's out there!"

"No, it's not. It's smarter than I thought," Terrah replied. "Get your pack off. We need to slide under this door."

Videsse understood and unbuckled her V-6, letting it drop on the floor. Terrah whipped the crank as quickly as she could. The hound shifted above them and the duct metal popped under its weight. Its familiar huff seemed to be at the duct joint.

Terrah had the door open fifteen centimeters. "Try to get under!"

Videsse slipped her Z-6 through easily, then tried to get under herself, but her helmet was just shy of fitting.

"A few more centimeters," Videsse called. One of the creature's claws emerged and gripped the edge of the ceiling duct.

Terrah cranked once more and Videsse slipped through. Terrah dropped instantly to the ground and slid her lower half under the door, just as the creature crashed down from the duct above them. For a second, the creature flailed trying to right itself, giving Terrah enough time to squeeze the rest of her body under the door. She pushed with her forearms away as quickly as she could. The creature thrust its arm through, narrowly missing hooking her again.

Videsse dropped to her side, her pistol in hand and fired over two dozen rapid shots under the door.

Terrah adjusted herself and stood up, catching her breath. "What are you doing? You know that doesn't do anything?" Terrah challenged.

"Yeah, but it's gotta hurt," Videsse said with smug satisfaction.

Terrah smiled, took off one of her sonic charges, and tossed it under the door.

"Like that's gonna do any better," Videsse commented.

"Yeah, but the headache is exquisite," Terrah replied.

The charge erupted in a flash from under the door, followed by a roar.

Videsse laughed and nodded her head. "Now we're cookin'!"

"Come on, now," Terrah said. "We've got work to do."


	33. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Cheedo

The lift corridor was silent as Terrah and Videsse descended back to the lower level. They did not waste time, as their movements were spurred by purpose and the possibility of pursuit.

Terrah dropped through the lift hatch first and scanned the hall with her head lamp. It was empty, but the blastdoor to the hangar was open. That was a stark contrast from when they had left. She shone her lamp into the dimly blue-lit hangar.

A figure was under the E-Wing across the way on the forward wall. Cheedo bent over his R7 droid, fidgeting nervously trying to disconnect the astromech lift.

"Is it clear?" Videsse called as she descended through the hatch.

Cheedo looked up sharply at the aft door when he heard her voice. He saw Terrah and fumbled to finally disconnect the astromech lift. Once detached, he hit the underside of his E-Wing, causing the lift to retract into the underside of the fighter. Cheedo darted his eyes around the hangar and then scurried across the hangar floor to Terrah.

"What's this?" Terrah asked, covering him with her pistol.

"What's what?" Cheedo countered as he held up his hands. He still advanced anxiously. "You can put that down, Sun. You know me; I'm no threat."

Videsse stepped out from the lift and sidled up to Terrah. "Look who we got here!" She drew her pistol in her right hand, and Cheedo's blaster in the other. "Where's Cotrel? I gotta long complaint I plan on settlin' quick."

"We got separated," Cheedo chattered out.

"How'd that happen?" Videsse followed.

Cheedo lowered his hands and smiled as he thought of something. "I snuck away, like always."

"Keep those hands up," Videsse ordered. Cheedo lifted them again.

"Sure. No worries. I'm unarmed and as cool as Camor," Cheedo replied with a voice that betrayed his calmness. He seemed to want to hide that. "But, maybe, considering that hound is around, you'd be decent enough to give me back my blaster. Sun could vouch for me."

"Not a chance, Snitch," Videsse replied.

Cheedo took the insult without offense and nodded.

"What were you doing here, anyway?" Terrah asked.

"Just lightening my ship. The return trip was going to be a long one. Any little bit helps, and that R7 droid is a piece of junk. I was kind of hoping you two would get the hyperdrive shut down before that creature got you." It was not a tactful reply, but it seemed honest.

Terrah considered Cheedo's answers and lowered her weapon. "Well, that's where we're headed," she said. "You can keep unloading your ship, or whatever you were doing. Let's go, Ohara. He's no big threat. Not to us anyway." She turned to walk toward the hover-crate.

Videsse was not sure about Cheedo's harmlessness and back-stepped into the corridor, making sure to keep a line on him with her pistol.

Cheedo eye's widened while he opened his mouth as if to say something, but tripped over his words. "Uh, wait. Wait!"

Terrah and Videsse stopped.

"Cotrel is after me, and that hound, and . . . well, Ohara's got my weapon, and . . ."

"Fine, Cheedo," Terrah said. "You can come."

Videsse exhaled forcefully in disgust. "Then he walks in front so I can keep him in check. And let him push the cart."

Cheedo nodded and smiled; then he scurried in front of them.

Videsse followed behind him as Terrah took her position at the rear.

They passed through the dark hall, stepping over the disturbed floor grates as they made their way to the engine room. It did not surprise any of them that the lights were out and the doors were non-operational. However, the hyperdrive engines were roaring, making it almost impossible to speak. The room was also insufferably hot and no one wanted to stay in there longer than needed.

Videsse shouted over the engine noise to the others. "The motivator should be over there!" She pointed to the forward wall on their left. She directed her head-lamp beam to the area, illuminating the large pipes and cables that exited from the ceiling. The pipes scaled down the wall to a large metal-ridged piece of equipment. It was ten meters long and three meters high. Its black metal was lined with insert ports and coils. From the aft end, multiple pipes emerged, like tentacles that stretched out to the hyperdrive engines. "There. Those pipes on the ceiling are from the core. And that metal rathtar-lookin' thing is the motivator," Videsse informed the others. "Time to shut it down. Cheedo, push that cart in front of one of the insert ports." Terrah remained centered in the room to keep an eye out for the creature.

He obediently crossed the engine floor. Videsse followed him and then inspected the port. "Can't fit all of these cells on here, and we're gonna need 'em all!" she shouted. "I need some cords! You're gonna help!" She pushed him back toward the door with the muzzle of her pistol.

"Stay there!" Videsse ordered over the engine roar. Cheedo submitted again, while she ripped up the floor grate to the right of the door. "These lines go to the door," she yelled as she pointed to the electrical cords. "They're dead." She held out the butt of a vibroblade to Cheedo. "Get in there and cut off about two meters."

Cheedo furrowed his brow and took half of a step back. "Why don't you do it?" He held up his hands as if he did not want to take the blade. Sweat dripped from his forehead.

"Look at me," she countered. "I'm covered in grenades and jet-fuel. If I get an electrical shock, we'll both be dead."

"A shock!" Cheedo replied. "You said the lines were dead."

Videsse forced the blade into his hands. "Don't be a coward, Cheedo. It would only be a little one, if any."

He took the vibroblade into his sweaty hands, reluctantly.

"And nothin' funny, you hear. I've still got my pistol on you," Videsse warned.

Cheedo sheepishly climbed down into the crawl space and gripped half of the thick cords that headed to the door. He placed the blade on them and sawed through. Nothing happened. The frayed wires in his hands gave no electric shock. He repeated the job on the other half. Then he followed them back for two meters before cutting the other ends.

"Okay, now place the blade on the grate," Videsse shouted. Cheedo did as she said, and Videsse swiped it up, snapping the small blade back into the sheath on her forearm. She laughed a bit. "I am a little surprised you didn't get electrocuted."

"What!" Cheedo exclaimed. "You said just a little shock!" He climbed out.

"Well," Videsse admitted. "I was about sixty percent sure the lines were dead."

Cheedo tensed his lips and squinted his eyes; his displeasure was evident.

"Whatever," Videsse replied and pushed him back to the motivator. "You stay there," she ordered Cheedo and pointed to a place five meters from the motivator. She replaced her weapon in her holster and got to work linking the power cells together from within the crate. She did not have to remove the cells and only had to make one long series-circuit.

"So, Sun tells me you were a pretty pathetic bounty hunter," Videsse shouted over the engine hum, trying to goad Cheedo.

Cheedo did not take the bait.

"And now she tells me you stink at working for The Third as well."

Again, Cheedo kept his mouth closed.

"So what is it today?" Videsse asked, finishing up with the cells. "Are you here as a pathetic bounty hunter or as a stinkin' informant?"

Cheedo looked down, then replied. "I'm here for the same thing everyone else is."

"What's that?"

"The money," he called out.

Videsse turned to him. "Listen up, Snitch," she exclaimed and pointed her gloved finger at him. "I ain't here for the money. When you tell The Third about Ohara Fett, you be sure to make note of that!"

Cheedo furrowed his brow and his ears raised in a perplexed look. "Then what are you here for?"

Videsse did not answer but finished hooking the wires to the port insert. The motivator gave an electric snap as she attached the cells. Nothing else happened. Videsse stared at the hyperdrive engines intently listening. Gradually, the roar of the hyperdrive engines lessened.

"That's it!" Videsse shouted. "The hyperdrive is going to slow to a stop over the next few minutes. Let's get outta here."

She left Cheedo and ran to the door. "Come on," she called to Terrah. "Time to go."

Terrah followed, with Cheedo just behind. They ran through the twenty-meter corridor back to the hangar.

"I'm surprised we haven't bumped into that hound," Cheedo said as he looked around the hanger.

"Well, it can't be everywhere," Terrah replied.

The blue light from hyperspace continued to gleam through the open hangar bay; however, it was becoming less vivid. The overhead lights flickered on and then died out again.

"Looks like, we might get the lights back as the drive dies," Videsse stated.

They moved to the center of the hangar and watched as the blue hyperspace dimmed and evaporated away like clouds over Tatooine. The bay lights animated back to their quivering life.

PZ-85 hobbled up to them leaving his post at _Blade-4_. "Vid—eh—Ohara," he stammered. "You—you have returned. Th-thank the stars."

"PZ, we need to get _Blade-4_ online. It's time to go," Videsse ordered.

"B—but there is some—something I think you will want to be informed of," he replied. He stumbled with his steps again.

"What is it?" Videsse asked.

PZ-85 drew nearer within a few meters and began to speak. "There w—was activity that you—" He did not finish his sentence. Blaster shots rang out from just inside the aft door. The first shot whizzed past the droid's head. Then PZ-85's right shoulder exploded, followed by his chest. A spray of metal fragments ricocheted off Videsse's armor. She stood stunned for a second, as the droid's body fell to the ground, electric sparks arcing from the open chest wound. To Videsse, he seemed to float to the ground in the only graceful motion the droid had ever made. She raised her head painfully to move her gaze to the aft door. Cotrel stood there resolutely with intense focus in his eyes. His hands gripped a smoking blaster, and a finger rested firmly on the trigger.

"You all stay where you are," he called out. "The kid's _Kom'rk_ is mine."


	34. THE FINAL BOUNTY: The Final Bounty

A terrible scream bellowed through the hanger, anger and anguish echoing off the cold metal. For a moment everyone stood motionless in the wake of it; everyone except for Videsse. She fell on top of the droid, her body draping over his. She said no words but only breathed in loud vocal gasps.

Cotrel strafed slowly to the _Kom'rk_ , keeping his aim on the three of them. "Don't try anything funny, and we'll all get off of this ship fine," he ordered.

Videsse's fists clenched and her breathing stopped. Her hand made its way down to her holster.

"Ohara," Terrah cautioned. "Don't—"

However, there was no use in the warning. Videsse was up on her feet in a flash, blaster shots storming from her pistol and blaster in a torrential downpour of fury. She screamed as the wild shots ricocheted off the walls, _Blade-4_ , and the floors; Videsse's aim suffered as she was blinded with rage. Her tears were hidden under her helmet.

Cotrel drew a sharp breath at the attack, and dove behind the _Kom'rk_ engine exhausts to get out of the hail of fire. He recognized the poor aim, keeping his composure as he checked how many discharges he had left in his blaster. There were plenty. Videsse's barrage kept coming. He waited.

After two dozen more shots, the onslaught stopped. It became quiet, except for Videsse's wet inhales and the rapid clicks from her empty blasters. Her fingers fluttered on the triggers, throwing clicking trills into the air. However, her storm was not finished. The blasters dropped to the ground, as she walked forward. She removed two grenades from her belt, flinging the safety pins off with her thumbs as she held them out at each side.

Cotrel emerged from behind the _Kom'rk_ , his blaster aimed. He cautiously marked her with his aim. Videsse continued the advance, as she threw the two grenades with wrathful intent. Cotrel fired his weapon. The ship jolted at the eruption; a cataclysmic upheaval propelled everyone into the air and crashed them to the ground. Videsse spun in the air at the quake and landed on her side, motionless.

"That was no grenade blast. That's the core," Terrah said to Cheedo as she got up, but Cheedo was already gone. Terrah ran to Videsse and found her lying in a pool of her blood.

Terrah looked up at Cotrel, who was climbing the _Kom'rk_ ladder to the cockpit. She saw red. Like Videsse, her pistols came out, and her fire hot pistol shots flew at Cotrel. However, unlike Videsse, Terrah's shots were tempered with years of experience. Her aim was sure. The Red Sun dawned, and every ray from her pistols cut through him with needled precision as he rounded the top of the ladder. His thigh ruptured in a bloody line, followed by his shoulder, his hip, his chest. He reeled and collapsed, his life waning. Blood painted the outside and interior of the cockpit as he fell from the top of the ladder into the ship. With a last effort, he closed the cockpit blast-shield, sealing himself in the ship he had won.

Terrah replaced her pistols at her side and ran to Videsse. She was unconscious; blood was dripping from her leg and clotting on the ground. Terrah held her hand over the wound and applied pressure, thanking the stars that it was not a chest shot. Videsse finally moved at the pain of Terrah's pressure.

"You nerfherder," she said in a groggy voice as she recovered her mentation. "That hurts."

"We need to get out of here," Terrah said. "The core's going to go."

A loud hum of snub engines roared close to them. Terrah looked up to see Cheedo's E-wing flying over the top of them and out of the hangar bay.

"Figures," Terrah commented as she watched the E-wing escape.

Videsse sobered at the thought of the core explosion. She turned to her side and got on her knees, wincing at the pain in her leg. "I've got to get PZ," she muttered.

Terrah helped her up, and Videsse balanced herself on her left leg, toe touching with the other.

"Could you help me get PZ, to my ship?" Videsse asked.

Terrah nodded. She remembered how Videsse associated PZ-85 with Terrah and she understood Videsse's need to save the droid.

Videsse let go of Terrah and limped on her own toward the droid. A trail of blood following her.

Then they heard it: A deafening roar from the aft door announcing the presence of the hound. Both Terrah and Videsse whipped their gaze toward the woeful howl. There it stood, the first time they had seen the creature's full and hideous form. The creature was twice as massive as a human and covered in dark-brown, airtight scales. Its muscular body rested on six sinewy legs, the two thoracic limbs ending in hand-like paws with sharp retractable claws. A dorsal ridge of coarse, gray hair lined the shoulders and back ridge of the hound. Its four black eyes were open wide as its snout lifted in the air and sniffed with loud huffs, retracting its lips to aid in its scent tracking. It stepped restlessly from the door, focused on a scent. It moved toward the _Kom'rk_.

"It smells the blood," Terrah observed.

The hound leapt onto the _Kom'rk_ and started to claw at the cockpit blast door. It gripped the seal and tore the edge up, then it started to slam its head down on the glass shield. The shield cracked under the pressure and gave way in shards of splintered glass. The hound found its meal, its body heaving as it pushed its snapping jaws further into the cockpit.

"You wouldn't mind if I hitch a ride with you, would ya?" Videsse asked Terrah.

Before Terrah could answer, another huffing sound came from the forward hangar door. Terrah felt a cold chill down her spine at the realization. They turned to see a second hound. It was smaller and darker in color and with less fur on his ridge, but it had the same hungry black eyes and voracious teeth. Blue blood still stained its long claws.

The hound huffed in the air, picking up a scent and then looked directly at Videsse. Videsse looked down at her blood-stained leg. "Get PZ into your _Firespray_ ," she said. "Save him."

With that, she took a few hobbled steps toward the open hangar bay.

"No!" Terrah shouted. Videsse blasted her V-6 to get off her lame leg and accelerated to the energy shield. "Ohara!" Terrah cried out, but Videsse did not hear her.

The smaller hound, seeing its prey flee was drawn into the pursuit with a nimble gallop and it sped toward Videsse. Terrah fired desperately at the hound with no effect.

Videsse skimmed the ground, her feet barely missing the floor. The hound closed the distance. Videsse passed through the energy shield into the vacuum of space. Her air-tight Mandalorian armor could manage the vacuum of space for a few minutes; but with her leg wound, the air in her suit escaped with a spray of blood, sending her into a pencil roll.

The hound broke hard at the edge of the bay, stopping just shy of the energy shield. It was intelligent enough not to leap into the void but stared at Videsse eagerly waiting for her possible return. Saliva dripped from its greedy mouth.

Just behind it, a small, round, metal object emitted a red flash. In an instant the grenade exploded, the shockwave from the blast sending the hound hurdling through the energy shield into space. It spun and writhed as it floated away from the ship, its large nostrils flaring as it tried to huff in the void.

Videsse managed to curve her trajectory back through the energy shield and inhaled violently once back inside the ship's atmosphere. Her fuel reserves in the V-6 were just about spent, so she used the last of it to sputter halfway across the bay before collapsing on her hands and knees. "Gotcha," she said between panting breaths.

Another monstrous explosion shook the _Blood Krayt_. Videsse gripped the floor and yelped reflexively at the violent quake. However, before she could get up to head toward Terrah's _Firespray_ , two large, savage feet stepped before her face. A loud huff sprayed mist over the back of Videsse's helmet. She looked up to see rows of glistening teeth emerge from under the hound's receding lips.

"Oh, sod it!" she exclaimed to herself and lowered her head in surrender, when without warning, rapid cannon fire ripped through the silence. The hound reflexively tensed at the sound, but then jolted to its side with an impact.

Terrah's ship, _Raider_ , blasted away with its two ground buzzers, as it hovered closer to the hound. The hound fell to its side and tried to get up, but the cannon fire knocked it down again. Its skin protected it from handheld blasters, but _Raider's_ blaster cannons battered the creature, breaking bones at first before overcoming the thick hide and piercing through to its vital organs. It tried to remain upright and run away; but _Raider_ pursued, hovering over Videsse as the creature retreated. After a dozen direct hits, the hound foundered to the ground and writhed, dark red blood exuding from its wounds. Its chest heaved with each breath as it fought to stay alive.

 _Raider's_ ramp lowered as Terrah rushed down to Videsse. Terrah put her arm under Videsse and helped her up gently, leading her into the ship.

"Wait, PZ—" Videsse protested and tried to resist.

"Don't worry," she comforted. "I've got your droid."

"No time for talk, Red, get her in," _Raider_ ordered.

Videsse, upon hearing the droid's voice, looked into ship. "Boba?" she asked.

Terrah did not answer Videsse, but Terrah supported most of her weight as they ascended the ramp. "Save your energy, Ohara," she said.

The ramp closed behind her as another explosion shook the _Blood Krayt_ from within.

"Get us out of here, _Raider_ ," Terrah ordered.

"Already on it, Red," the ship replied as it passed into the cold darkness, then disappeared into the nebulous hyperspace.


	35. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Battle Wounds

Videsse sat on the floor in the passenger bay of the _Firespray_ , her left hand resting on the head of PZ-85. A red-stained bandage was wrapped around her right thigh, quelling the bleeding.

Terrah entered from the cockpit, still wearing her helmet and carrying a medical kit. She approached Videsse and knelt down by her side.

"Looks like it's going to be a long trip back to the galaxy. I've got us coming into the Kessel sector. Not ideal, but it's the closest place that we can refuel. It's lucky that we are even able to get there," Terrah said.

Videsse said nothing. She just looked down at the broken droid, his eyes dead of light.

"Here," Terrah continued. "Let me look at that leg."

She began to unwrap the leg carefully. Videsse allowed her; but remained silent, absorbed in the fear of losing her last connection with her mother.

The wound was black with charred flesh. The carbon crust was fractured at places showing glistening pink tissue beneath, but no bleeding.

Terrah winced at seeing it. "It's deep," she said. "But not to the bone. Nothing a night in a Bacta tank wouldn't fix. We'll get you to a med center as soon as we can."

"No," Videsse resisted. "I'll be fine." Her voice was weak and disheartened.

"Well," Terrah resumed. "It looks like you'll heal; but without medical treatment, you will probably have a limp."

"Whatever," Videsse said, her voice even lower, almost inaudible.

Terrah knew this was a poor decision for a bounty hunter. "If you want to keep bounty hunting, you'd better get that fixed," she tried to convince her.

Videsse did not answer. There was silence between them while Terrah applied a Bacta salve and re-bandaged the leg. Bacta salve was a poor substitute for a tank, but it was better than nothing.

Once finished Terrah broke the silence. "Where do you want me to take you? Home?"

"No," Videsse replied. "Nar Shaddaa. I need to find a new ship, and I've got a friend there that can help me." Videsse went to remove her helmet.

"No," Terrah said, putting her hand on Videsse's. "Didn't Boba teach you anything? Don't take off your helmet."

Videsse lowered her hands slowly. "You know him," she stated, finally looking up from the droid.

"Knew him," Terrah corrected. "A long time ago."

Videsse nodded. "He's gonna hate me for this. All of this: Getting shot, losing my pistols, _Blade-4_ , and . . . He didn't know I was bounty hunting—thought I was just runnin' supply runs."

Terrah nodded, understanding Videsse. "Boba tends to hate the things he loves most. Don't worry about that," Terrah said. "And I'm sure he's known about your hunts for a while."

Videsse could not argue with either of Terrah's statements. Videsse looked back to the droid. She inhaled deeply and tried to wipe her nose through her helmet. She dropped her arm quickly, realizing how foolish it must have looked.

"You asked if there was something wrong with my droid," she said in a quivering voice. Her fingers traced the metal seams of his shattered shoulder. "There is." She sniffed. "It's . . . It's my fault."

Terrah leaned up against the wall and sat beside Videsse.

Videsse continued. "Tryin' to hide my hunts, I kept wiping his memory banks." She sniffed again. "I was losing a little of him every time. First the twitches, then the stuttering, then his balance, and now-" Her voice trailed off. She couldn't finish the sentence. Her chest heaved with an inhale, but she tried desperately to hold in sobs. "I understand, Sun."

Terrah was confused. "Understand what?"

"I understand why you left your daughter," Videsse replied, a cry bursting out.

Terrah did not expect her own tears to fall, but they did. Nor did she expect that her arm would find its way over Videsse's shoulder, but it did. Videsse leaned in, hiccoughing with each cry. "If I lose him, I don't know what I'll do," she whimpered.

Terrah swallowed the painful knot in her throat. "There is still hope, Ohara," Terrah comforted. She made a wet inhale, herself, and hugged Videsse. "We can hope that the things we have broken can still be repaired."

They held each other for a long time, sharing their sorrow and their hope.


	36. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Time To Go

Donal, the Trandoshan mechanic on Nar Shaddaa waited by his shop door as _Raider_ came to rest on the small landing pad. Donal had been an associate of Boba Fett's for years, aiding Boba in many of his endeavors, not the least of which was the ruining of The Keeper. Donal had become as much of a friend to Boba Fett as Boba was capable of. With that, Donal had also become like an uncle to Videsse.

The steam vents from the _Firespray_ erupted in a dense cloud as the ramp descended. Videsse was the first to exit, almost hopping on her good leg. Her façade of arrogance snapped back into place, transforming her demeanor entirely from the moment she shared with Terrah. Terrah carried what was left of PZ-85, as she followed behind.

"Patch," Donal addressed. "Can't say I'm surprised to see you."

"You know I hate that name!" Videsse snapped.

Donal laughed. "Well, with all your names, that's the only one I know is safe to use. So, you'll have to deal with it."

Videsse huffed. "It's the only name that'll tick me off every time. But whatever, gimme a hand. Can't you see I'm injured?"

"Of course," he stammered. Donal quickly swept his arm under hers and helped her into the shop. "So, what else can I do for you? And who is that?" He pointed with his chin back at Terrah.

"You don't know Red Sun?" Videsse answered. "You know, the one that took out The Keeper."

Donal laughed to himself. "Oh, that one," he said not hiding his amusement. "Looks like you have gotten yourself into another mess then."

"Nothin' I can't handle," Videsse replied. "But I need you to check out PZ. Please tell me you can fix him."

Donal set Videsse down on a chair and went to Terrah. "The kid give you a hard time?" he asked with a large tooth-filled grin.

"You have no idea," Terrah replied as she set PZ-85 down on a work bench.

"I think I do," Donal answered. "Droid!" he called out and a small maintenance droid scurried in from a back room. It examined PZ-85 and unclasped PZ-85's head. The droid then scampered to the back room with the head.

"It looks like his memory center was physically undamaged, but my maintenance droid needs to run some diagnostics for surge damage. From the look of it, he'll probably need a whole new body and fuel cell."

"Do whatever it takes," Videsse said.

"You know I will," Donal replied.

"And I need a new ship, too. What do ya got?" Videsse asked.

"Still trying to get rid of the _Vigilance_ ; that _SS-64_ we got from the First Order. The one that Sith Lady supposedly flew. Pretty good shape if you want that."

"I'll take it," Videsse said. She reached into her belt pouch and produced a handful of red gems, tossing them on the table. "I'm afraid I don't have credits on me, but that oughta do. It is a _used_ ship, you know."

Terrah's eyes widened at the sight of the gems. "Amaralite gems? Where did you get those?"

Videsse shrugged her shoulders. "Just 'cause I didn't get Gabril's droid, doesn't mean there wasn't something to get outta the job. There was a crate in the _Blood Krayt_ 's hold full of them."

Terrah laughed, reached into her belt pouch, and produced a handful as well. "I know."

Videsse nodded and smiled behind her helmet. "I guess you're not as useless as I thought."

"I think you'll do alright, Ohara," Terrah replied. "You sure you don't want me to stick around a bit."

"Nah," Videsse answered meekly. "Can't have you knowin' where my den is. You understand."

"I get it," Terrah replied with disappointment. "Boba has taught you well."

They stared at each other a moment. Terrah wanted to tell her everything, or at least tell Videsse who she was. She faltered and finally said, "If I see you around, listen to me next time I tell you it's time to go." Terrah turned and left without waiting for Videsse's reply.

* * *

 **Don't remember the amaralite gems... check out Chapter "Sounds in the Dark" again. I'm sorry it has been a long time since my last post. Only two more chapters to go. I'll upload the last two chapters Thursday and Friday. Thanks again for all of you that have stuck with this story! You rock! Please Review... us writers love reviews. :)**

 **And as for the _Vigilance_ SS-64, the one that Sith Lady flew... well check out my other fan fic,  Dark Jedi, for that story. **


	37. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Time to Return

A dry rag rested over the control arm of the harvester that crept through the yellow Quinto grain, leaving a path of fallen stalks in its wake. Twelve moisture vaporators stood tall beside the flat sea of grain that fed the irrigation system needed for grain to grow on the burning, arid soil of Geonosis.

The man sitting at the controls of the harvester took the rag with his leather-gloved hand and wiped the precious sweat from his head. His hair was gray; and the lines on his face were rough, made coarser by the short stubble of his chin. Sand goggles were sealed tightly over his eyes. He replaced the rag with a quivering hand and took a gulp from his shaking canteen. Next to him, sat a protocol droid, fitted three months prior with an aftermarket body that would have been pristine if not for the red dust that consumed the planet.

The two were silent as the harvester traced the field. The man continued to wipe his brow every few minutes, and replace the fluids again from his canteen.

"Master Boba," the droid commented, breaking the silence.

"Yes, PZ," the man replied.

"I thought I'd inform you as I am sure you would want to know," PZ-85 started as was his usual, with too many words. Boba breathed deep and waited for the pertinent information. "My scans show an incoming assault craft."

Boba raised his goggles to his forehead and looked to the sky. A small red speck emerged from the tawny clouds. Boba stopped the harvester, its spinning blades halting to a stop. He reached under the harvester's control panel and removed his EE-3 carbine rifle. "Take the controls, PZ," he ordered and stepped off into the waist-high golden field.

Boba walked away from the harvester with a noticeable limp. PZ-85 started the harvester behind him and continued. Boba crouched painfully in the grain and watched the ship approach, his hand on the trigger. It drew near enough for him to recognize that it was a familiar red _Firespray_.

"Huh," he said to himself and stood up. "What do you know."

The ship advanced within thirty meters and settled down, just outside of the field. The wind from its exhaust flattened the nearby stalks of Quinto. Boba limped toward the ship.

The ramp descended in a gust of vapor, and a female figure stepped out. She wore her bright red armor, but her helmet was still on board the ship. She approached Boba, her dark hair blowing in the breeze. Boba plucked a head of grain as he walked to her.

They stopped a few meters from each other. Her bright green eyes lit up the drab planet. Boba gave a half smile. "I was wondering when you would show up, Red."

Terrah smiled. "You knew I wasn't dead, then."

"I've known since I saw _Slave-1_ in The Keeper's hangar," he replied. He angled his head to look at the _Firespray_. "Can't say I like your detailing."

"Yeah, I think you're going to hate me for a lot of my mods on that ship," she stated.

"Red, I've hated you from the moment I first laid eyes on you. Nothing's going to change that," he said with a smile.

Terrah returned the smile. "So you knew I was alive, but didn't come after me?"

"Would it have mattered?" Boba asked.

"No, I suppose not."

Boba continued. "I knew you'd come when you were ready." He let the grain drop from his hand.

Terrah averted her gaze to look at the harvester behind him. It was ambling aimlessly through the field. "Uh, your harvester. . ." Terrah nodded to direct Boba's attention to the harvester.

Boba shook his head. "You remember PZ. He's, uh . . . He's got a limp like the rest of us."

Terrah pushed back her hair behind her ears. Both Boba and Terrah watched PZ-85 circle the harvester. A moment passed in silence, then Terrah overcame her reservation. "Maybe I was wrong," she said weakly.

Boba smiled and made a little chuckle. "Dess got to you, too, huh?" He referred to Videsse.

"Yeah," Terrah agreed.

"We're hunters," Boba said, still watching the harvester as it wandered out of the field and onto the rocky ground. "We keep searching and striving until we find what we were looking for. Then we can rest."

"Did you find it?" Terrah gazed back at Boba.

He nodded. "I did. Did you?"

Terrah smiled and reached out to wipe some dust off his shoulder. "Yeah, I think I did."

"Shelter's not far from here. We've got to work on that droid some more, as you can see."

"Master," PZ-85's voice could be heard faintly in the distance as the harvester sailed away from the Quinto field and into the dusty wasteland. "I'm afraid there is a problem with the grain field."

"Dess and I could use your help." Boba's voice remained calm and unemotional.

"I'd like that," Terrah answered.

"She's going to be surprised to see you," Boba predicted and lowered his goggles.

"I bet she will," Terrah replied.

* * *

 **That's the official end of the Boba Fett story. Thanks so much for reading! Review :)**

 **One more chapter left; if you know my stories, I always have an "extra credit scene" epilogue. I hope you enjoyed the experience as much as I loved writing it!**


	38. THE FINAL BOUNTY: Epilogue

Epilogue

Seti Gabril sat alone in the cylinder of light that bisected the pitch black room. His back was erect, as he remained still and meditative. The folds of his robes were undisturbed as if carved in terra cotta. He wore the impassive onyx faceplate that hid any emotion.

Seti Gabril lowered his head and raised his right hand, his fingers together. The ground shook as rock began to grind on rock. Stray pebbles broke free from the distant ceiling and rained down throughout the room. The small passage in front of him opened letting in the bright light from the mid-day sun on the planet of Lothal. A dark umbrage stood in the doorway.

"I have to admit," Gabril began. "You were the last person I expected to come through."

A Rodian entered through the doorway, pushing an astromech droid in front of him. He entered the shaft of light in the center of the room. It was Cheedo.

"Well, Sleenwai and I had a way to keep everyone else busy, while I snuck around," Cheedo said with a silver smile.

Gabril stood up. "Does this mean you will now be bounty hunting full time again?"

Cheedo laughed. "No, this wasn't bounty hunting. But a demonstration for Sleenwai. And now, the new head of the pirate guild is paying me well for my hybrids. I was never in real trouble. I just had to ensure Sleenwai's competition was eliminated. This droid just added to my coffer. You see, Sleenwai rigged the hyperdrive and gave me the code to disarm it, as soon as Cotrel was eliminated, I-"

"Enough, I don't want to hear more." Gabril shook his head. He went to the droid and knelt down next to it. His fingers traced the seams of the orange head assembly. It had chipped paint and carbon scaring but maintained its integrity. "Did you turn him on?"

"Yeah, and that was a mistake!" Cheedo replied. "That is one ornery droid you wanted."

Gabril made an almost inaudible chuckle, then removed a diagnostic pad and inserted it into the droid's access port.

After a minute of sifting through the pad's analysis, Gabril unhooked it. "Looks like his operating systems are intact. Some minor ancillary damage, but otherwise he's still operational."

"Any damage wasn't my fault," Cheedo said nervously. "The droid is as old as the Old Republic."

Gabril rose up. "You need not worry that I'll skimp you on the reward." He held out a data chip. "Three hundred thousand as agreed."

Cheedo's greedy green hand swiped it from Gabril. "Thanks. Glad to be of service to you. And if you are in need of any guard or tracking hybrids, I've got some fantastic crosses."

"No," Gabril said flatly. "I believe I'm done with you."

Cheedo checked the data chip on his wrist display and was pleased with the result. "Well, if things change, I'm around." He backed out of the dark room and into the dry air outside.

Gabril raised his hand and closed the rock face behind him. He let out a frustrated exhale and removed the onyx plate. He was a man in his fifties with blue eyes, and a fading scar on his left cheek. His head was shaved, but some black hair could be seen growing in.

"I hate working with that bounty scum," he said out loud.

"Watch what you say, Ezra Bridger," a woman's voice spoke from behind him. "I was a bounty hunter at one time . . . maybe more than one time." The female figure materialized from the shadow. Her black hair was graying at the sides, showing her age. She was dressed in a form-fitted maroon jacket and synthetic gray pants that were common casual wear for Mandalorians. A blaster slept on her hip. She walked up and placed her hand on Ezra's shoulder.

"I didn't mean that, Sabine," Ezra replied with a sigh. "It's just, I-"

"I know what you mean," Sabine interrupted and gave him an affectionate side hug.

Ezra nodded and smiled as he looked into Sabine's eyes. "Well, that data chip was the last of the reward you and Zeb got from the Resistance."

"A decent expense, for a priceless reward," she returned. "To have everyone back again; the entire crew of the _Ghost_."

"It's been too long," Ezra said. He bent down to look at the C1 droid again. "Do you think Chopper will recognize us after all these years?"

"There's only one way to find out," Sabine answered.

"I suppose you're right," Ezra exhaled. "Let's welcome him home." He reached around the back of the head assembly and switched the droid on.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! Love you guys.**

 **If by this point you still haven't read Dark Jedi and you're wondering what Ezra is talking about when he mentions the reward from the Resistance, check out my Dark Jedi fiction. Or even better, check out SaphireAlena's fictions. If you liked mine, you'll love hers. Thanks so much SaphireAlena for the beta and all the awesome reviews!**

 **I'm currently writing a Han Solo prequel. Since I now have Episode VIII, IX, and a Boba Fett movie. I might as well finish the Disney line-up for future movies. So look forward to a Han Solo prequel, Dark Smuggler, and then a Rogue One style fiction, Dark Rogue. 2017 should be fun! Check my profile for more info. **

**And as always. Please Review! Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!**


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